The Boy and the Sea Dragon
by KLMeri
Summary: On an away mission, Captain Kirk encounters an old friend he hasn't thought of in years. Unfortunately, their meeting is less than fortuitous and bodes ill for the rest of Jim's crew. - COMPLETE
1. Part One

**Title**: The Boy and the Sea Dragon (1/?)  
**Author**: klmeri  
**Fandom**: Star Trek AOS  
**Characters**: Kirk, Spock, McCoy  
**Disclaimer**: I make no profit on my fandom writing. But I do enjoy lovely comments. :)  
**Summary**: On an away mission, Captain Kirk encounters an old friend he hasn't thought of in years. Unfortunately, their meeting is less than fortuitous and bodes ill for the rest of Jim's crew.

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Part One

* * *

Sunshine warms the earth. An east wind blows sand with fierce determination. The sea wall is already coated in a fine layer, its drab grey taking on the appearance of gold. A boy, the age of nine, ignores the stinging of the sand-laden wind and climbs over the sea wall to the beach. He leaves behind two small, smeared handprints.

He returns to the same spot which he has frequented for the last month. It is damp from the receding tide, but the coolness of the damp is pleasant on his skin. The child also finds that when he digs his toes into the sand, it has a satisfying squishy quality.

"Are you there?" he calls as soon as he is seated. "Hello?"

The sea murmurs quietly, like a sleeping giant.

The boy can be patient. He knows that if he waits long enough, his friend will visit.

A terribly slow and frustrating ten minutes later, when he is drawing pictures in the sand with his finger, there is the familiar noise of distant splashing. So the child hugs his knees with his arms and watches, wide-eyed, as his friend comes from the sea.

It looks like a dragon—well, how he imagines dragons might look—on two legs. Green scales patch its long legs (which bend backwards rather than forward) and the back of its arms. The face of the creature is strange, unnerving, with its slanted dark eyes and long whiskers like seaweed. It has no hair, only a round rough-looking scalp.

The boy is not afraid. "Morning."

It makes a noise that must be a greeting and wobbles on its legs awkwardly as it approaches. The child thinks that it must not stand very often. Why would it need to stand, except maybe on the bottom of the ocean?

"How are you doing?" he asks. His mother says that politeness is required even between friends. The child and the sea dragon have not been friends for long.

It settles in front of him on its haunches and reaches out a hand. The boy raises his own hand to meet its fingertips. It speaks to him this way—a kind of talking in his head.

_Hello, child_ it says.

"Jimmy," corrects the boy.

_Jem-me._

He thinks it's funny, how this thing cannot say a simple name like Jimmy.

"It's okay to call me Jim rather than Jimmy." There is a pause. "How come you won't tell me your name?"

_I have no name._

"Can I name you?"

_No._

Always the same response to Jim's question. He likes to nickname things and people, even if they already have a proper name. Sometimes that makes people mad at him; others think he is twice as cute. So Jim goes on to his second favorite question: "What are you?"

_I am like you._

Jim doesn't believe this because he has never woken up with fins and scales and black fish eyes.

"I am a Human," says the boy. "You look like a dragon from an old storybook."

There is no response, but Jim feels an emotion that he identifies as amusement. The sea dragon often thinks that he says funny things. Time to try another tactic. He disconnects their fingertips to dig in his pocket. Then young James T. Kirk places a crumbling biscuit on the sand between them and asks, "Are you hungry?"

When the sea dragon tilts his head and stares at him, Jim takes this for confusion and holds out his hand again. When they are touching, he repeats his question.

It extends a long claw and spears the biscuit. Jim likes the sea dragon's claws, though he rarely sees them since they are normally retracted; they are as hard as steel and he has seen his mysterious friend fed on jellyfish by slicing them into shreds with those claws.

The child watches with fascination as the biscuit is inspected. "I like lots of jam on mine, but I didn't put any jam on yours 'cuz you might not like jam. Aren't you gonna eat it? It's good." Jim picks up a sand-coated crumb and pops it in his mouth. It's gritty but he forces himself to look pleased.

The biscuit is smelled and discarded. Jim sighs and puts it back in his pocket—perhaps he can get his older brother Sammy to eat it later on a dare.

The sea dragon makes a rumbling noise, blinks its ghoulish black eyes and reaches for Jim's hair. Jim remains still, barely breathing. He wonders if his friend will let him touch the scales along its neck and shoulders; he has been so curious about how they feel, if the texture would be rough like a lizard's skin or smooth and sharp like fish scales.

There is a painful tug on his hair. "Hey!" Jim cries. "Don't pull so hard!"

_Hair like the sun_ is what his friend says.

"It's blond, like my father's." The boy knows how much he looks like his deceased father—he is told so by his family rather often.

The sea dragon starts to lean towards him when a call rings out in the distance.

"Jimmy!"

It's Sammy hollering from the beach house, probably because his mother is ready to go shopping in town.

His strange friend cocks his head for just a moment, listening, before it starts to crawl back the way it came.

Jim scrambles after it shouting. "Wait! Wait! I need to tell—"

It stops just at the edge of the lapping salt water and holds out its hand. Jim grasps it in his; it feels weird—cold and slightly like the slime of a fish.

"We're leaving tomorrow," the boy tells him urgently. "We're going back to Iowa because Mama's new boyfriend wants to get married and I don't know your name and—"

_Peace, child. We will meet again._

"When? There aren't any beaches where I'm from." Just endless rows of cornfields, old houses, and barns.

_We will meet again._

The sea dragon disappears back into the sea.

Jim stays there for some minutes, trying to pick out the difference between the flashes of sunlight glinting on the ocean and what might be a fin. He finally turns away, feeling sad and alone, to trudge back to the sea wall.

Sam meets him on the other side.

"Where have you been, dumbass? Ma is so mad."

"On the beach," he mumbles.

Sam looks at him through narrow eyes. "You aren't supposed to be here without me or Frank to watch you."

Jim shrugs with all the sullenness of a small rebel child. Sam wisely does not mention Frank's name again. Neither of them like their soon-to-be stepfather.

Jim is only half-listening as his brother talks.

"I hate Iowa. I'd rather stay on the coast. But Ma—"

Jim wants to stay on the coast too in hopes that he will discover more about the creature that he befriended.

"God, I don't think I can stand it, Jimmy, I just can't—"

Sam has been complaining a lot lately, about everything. He doesn't yell like he's angry, not as Jim does when someone makes him upset. No, Sammy is much more introverted—and sometimes that scares his little brother. It feels like something is building, something bad, and Jimmy will be helpless to stop it from happening.

He breaks into Sam's familiar speech.

"Sammy, do you think Mama will forget _him_, you know, now that she's gonna marry—"

"Don't be stupid. Frank is_ nothing _like Dad." Sam grabs Jim's arm to pull him up short. "Dad's a hero. Nobody will ever forget that, especially not us."

Jim feels bad, because he secretly wishes that people would. Maybe then they'd stop looking at little Jimmy Kirk and seeing George Kirk instead.

"I guess not," he says as he scratches at a bare leg with one of his feet. "Sammy?"

"What now?"

"Do you believe in... mmmmm... you know, when you meet people you're supposed to? Like maybe if you've met them once and then don't see 'em until a long, long time later?"

His brother stares at him. "You mean like destiny?"

"Yeah."

Sam shrugs. "I don't know." They walk back to the house in silence.

Jim can't stop thinking. Destiny has to be real. How else will his friend find him again?


	2. Part Two

**Part Two**_

* * *

___

Eighteen years later…

"If you go about sticking your nose into every God-damn unsavory or dark place, you're liable to lose it. I'm a doctor, not a plastic surgeon!"

Jim grins and immediately winces thereafter. "Bones, that makes no sense. You're trained in reconstruction—you can use a bone regenerator to—"

McCoy presses a little too indelicately on the side of his busted nose. Kirk yelps.

"Quit yappin', kid, or I'll sew your mouth shut too."

Jim eyes his CMO, then sees the amused Nurse Chapel in the background—knows that she'd be willing to help McCoy out with the procedure—and decides that he'd better play it safe this time. Bones is always pissed when Jim manages to get his face punched in by a big angry male—or whatever the race on that planet considers their male-ish counterparts to be.

But it isn't Jim's fault that the female was attracted to him and then made a pass. It's natural, he believes, considering that he is a very good-looking Starfleet Captain.

A very, very good-looking one, if Bones will fix his face back to its natural state.

Jim closes his eyes, letting the pain medication do its work. They lost no one on the away mission, which means that he can relax and chalk it up to a success. His First Officer has the Bridge at the moment, and Captain Kirk plans to go back to his quarters and sleep off the leftover tension in his shoulders. It most certainly has nothing to do with resting being McCoy's suggestion—or the fact that Bones will probably continue to drug him so that he _does_ sleep.

Some time after that, Kirk isn't sure because he must have dozed off, Jim comes back to the world and levers himself out of the biobed. McCoy automatically appears from the CMO's office (as if on cue or by a sixth sense), takes Jim's elbow and steers him to the exit of Sickbay.

"If you go to the Bridge," Bones tells him, "Spock will personally escort you back to your quarters."

"Are you working against me with my First Officer?"

"Damn hobgoblin and I both have the same clause in our contract; something about 'preserving the Captain of the ship,'" Jim is reminded dryly. "Now go on."

He is given a gentle shove out the door.

Jim lingers in the corridor for just a moment; his blue eyes are remarkably warm. Then Captain James Tiberius Kirk goes back to his quarters as ordered.

* * *

"Explain to me again why you need the CMO?"

The Captain straps a phaser to his belt and then offers McCoy one. The doctor takes it with obvious reluctance and a frown.

"Would you rather stay here?"

"Hell no. Who knows what moron is operating the transporter?"

McCoy's back is to the transporter console. The poor ensign behind the controls is open-mouthed. Jim truly hopes that the man has learned by now that arguing with the ship's CMO is a very dangerous thing to do and that only the experienced are likely to come out unscathed.

"Damn thing is liable to scatter your molecules instead of beaming you back for medical attention."

Funny, how Bones assumes that Kirk is going to need medical attention. McCoy keeps talking.

"So when you end up with a hole in your chest that I can stick my hand through, at least I'll be there to yell at you in person before you die!"

"Doctor, there are currently no circumstances on which to base your assumptions."

Spock's taking his Captain's side. Maybe they are becoming a pretty good team, Jim decides.

McCoy pursues his lips and says, "Yet, Spock. There are no circumstances _yet_."

The First Officer looks at the CMO for a moment before turning his attention to the Captain. Then Spock inclines his head just a fraction and replies, "Agreed."

Scratch that. Jim is a man alone.

Bones looks smug as he takes his place on the transporter between Spock and Jim. "Let's get this over with," says the man in a drawl.

The Captain tells the transporter operator, "Energize."

* * *

All goes rather well for the first three hours. Then Leonard and Spock lose sight of the Captain, and things go, predictably, to shit. No one panics right away because a missing Jim is generally par for the course. However, Spock's orders to the other pair of searchers (two young security lieutenants) are growing more sharp with every check-in without good news. McCoy suppresses the urge to take the communicator away from the Vulcan, tell Spock to sit on a rock and meditate. Leonard opens his medikit instead and tries counting its contents to ease the unsettling feeling he has in the pit of his stomach.

When McCoy and Spock circle back around to their starting point, Leonard turns on his partner. "God-damn it, Spock! _Now_ do you see why I wanted you to approve the installation of a tracking chip in that wayward idiot?"

"It is unethical and illegal without the Captain's consent."

McCoy jabs a finger at the Vulcan. "It's damn necessary and you know it."

"Doctor McCoy, this is an inappropriate time—"

The communicator in Spock's hand comes to life. "Commander, we've found the Captain!"

Leonard fairly snatches it from the Vulcan's hands. "Is he hurt?"

"Negative, Doctor McCoy."

"Then tell Jim—"

Spock repossesses the communicator. "This is Commander Spock. Please relay your coordinates, Lieutenant. Hold your position."

The security officer gives them a set of coordinates, which immediately sets Spock in motion and causes McCoy to have to catch up to him. Meanwhile, they assess the situation.

Jim has been found, alright, and not alone. The security officers are trying to find a way down a cliff face—a fool stunt that McCoy can't decide if he should laud them for or berate about—to their Captain, who is ignoring their calls and talking with the stranger.

_Damn it._ For once, why can't the uninhabited planet be honest-to-God uninhabited? Leonard sets his jaw in irritation at Fate and a certain trouble-attracting Captain. He does not complain about the quick pace that the Vulcan sets.

* * *

"What the Hell is that thing?" Leonard is lying on his stomach at the edge of the cliff. He tries not to look straight down while simultaneously ignoring the queasiness of his stomach. He calls again, "JIM! UP HERE!"

The security officer next to the doctor says, "There must be some kind of shield, Doctor. We tried to fire off a shot but—"

Leonard cranes his head around to glare at the other, who shrinks away just a tiny bit. "You can't just go around phaser-blasting, Lieutenant!"

"It was just to get the Captain's attention and we didn't aim anywhere near him. I swear, Doctor!"

McCoy grunts and turns back to survey the view. Jim is cross-legged on a beach and there is something dark and huddled in front of Kirk. It looks friendly enough, but Leonard wants a face-to-face assessment of it before he makes that sort of decision.

He's going to kick the kid's ass once he is in range.

No, forget that. First he'll sedate the kid and THEN kick his ass once Jim is safely on the Enterprise.

The sound of rocks cascading breaks into his short daydream. McCoy makes one quick glance to his left before he exclaims, "_Shit!"_

Spock is already ten feet down the cliff face, clinging to the rock like a Tiberian bat. Leonard scrambles over to the other security officer who is watching the First Officer and Science Officer of the Enterprise descend, eyes wide. The doctor pushes the idiot out of the way.

He leans over of the edge as far as he dares. "Are you out of your God-damn Vulcan mind?" he yells.

"Negative, Doctor" is the reply which can barely be heard over the pounding of Leonard's heart.

"Spock, come back! We can get Scotty or someone to beam us down there!"

A security officer says "But there's a shield" at the same time the other remarks "Mr. Spock already tried that."

_Damn and blast._

Leonard feels helpless as he watches the Vulcan continue, so sure that at any moment a handhold will give away or Spock's foot will slip. When the First Officer reaches the bottom, McCoy is dizzy with relief. He releases the breath that he didn't realize that he had been holding.

Spock looks up at them, slowly and clearly raising his communicator as a signal of intent. Leonard hastily frees his own from his belt. "Spock?"

"Doctor McCoy."

"You owe me for the decade you just took off my life, you hobgoblin."

"Indeed. Doctor, there appears to be an invisible barrier which begins thirty-two point seven feet from the base of the cliff. I will attempt to find its end."

"It'd be better if you dance around like a deranged, pointy-eared monkey. There's no way Jim can miss seeing that."

The response is delayed, even by McCoy's standards. "The barrier extends to the waterline."

Oh, that's definitely unease he can hear in Spock's voice. The Vulcan is like a cat; he hates getting wet.

"Spock, don't even think about it. Whatever this… thing is, it can probably make the shield go as far as it wants. You'd drown from exhaustion before you'd find the end."

"Acknowledged, Doctor."

He sees the Vulcan retreat back toward the cliffs. Then Spock stands in one spot for a few minutes, facing in Jim's direction. Leonard would give a whole hell of a lot to know what is going on in that Vulcan's brain. He sees Spock place his hands in front of him, as if against glass. Something bright shimmers and McCoy blinks to clear his vision.

At first, he thinks that maybe Spock has found a way through the shield, but then a minute passes and nothing happens. That is, nothing happens until the dark figure in the distance slowly turns from Kirk and looks at them.

_Looks directly at them._

McCoy can feel its stare; the sensation is unnerving.

Another moment passes before Spock drops his hands and waits. Something inside Leonard says _now _and he shouts, "Jim!"

He could almost cry when that blond head swivels in their direction. Kirk gets to his feet. He waves.

He fucking waves.

It's possible that Leonard makes a noise between a whimper and a curse. A security officer says from behind the doctor, "The Captain doesn't look worried."

"Make no assumptions," snaps McCoy, "until we speak with Captain Kirk face-to-face."

The "Yes, Sir" is said quietly by the two young men. McCoy can see them adjusting their phasers from the corner of his eye.

Jim says something at the creature before he starts to walk to Spock. The dark thing does not move from its watchful position.

"Spock," McCoy says into his communicator, "does Jim look alright?"

"The Captain appears unharmed. I will not have a read on his… behavior until we are in closer proximity."

McCoy tells the First Officer grimly, "I'm not gonna tell you what to do, Spock, but you know the kind of situations we've landed in before. I trust your judgment." _And I won't gainsay your actions if you decide to nerve pinch the Captain._

"Understood" is the short reply.

Leonard watches with bated breath as Jim finally comes within an arm's length of Spock. They speak for an agonizing four minutes. During the course of that conversation, Spock gazes past Kirk to the creature a total of three times; somehow that doesn't make McCoy feel any better. He wishes that he could see Spock's face—the Vulcan may not have much expression, but Leonard can generally tell whether or not the Vulcan senses something amiss. Spock acquires a sharp, speculative look in his eyes.

McCoy calls into his communicator. "Jim?"

Kirk's head cranes, looking up, as he takes Spock's offered communicator.

"Hey, Bones."

"Jim." The name is heavy with relief. "What's going on, Captain?"

"Bones, you won't believe me."

"Try me, kid." Jim doesn't sound like he is under a foreign influence, but after the missions McCoy has been privy to, that means nothing. Then he quickly adds, "I'm going to suggest that we have this discussion on the _ship_, Captain." There is no way that Jim can miss that cue.

"I hear you, McCoy."

Leonard watches as Jim switches channels on the communicator and, he hopes, contacts Scotty. Leonard is almost to the point of feeling less tense when Spock's body visibly stiffens, a sight that cannot be missed even from McCoy's lofty vantage point. That sends alarms rattling off terribly loudly inside his head.

Then there is the distinct tingling of the transport effect and Leonard has no more room for thought or dread in the next split second.

* * *

The ensign is surprised when Mr. Scott relays the Captain's orders. Nevertheless, he configures the console properly and the away team beams onto the transporter pad. Once everyone is fully formed (and he can breathe a sigh of relief that he did his job without incident), his eyes immediately fix on a hunched figure. It is motionless on the platform while the others move, startled. At first he thinks that someone is hurt, that he should contact Sickbay, but then the ensign realizes that he is deeply mistaken. It is no humanoid or species he has seen before.

He almost agrees aloud when Doctor McCoy's voice rings out, "What the Hell did you do, Jim?"


	3. Part Three

**Part Three**

* * *

They beam down to an uninhabited planet and come back to the Enterprise with a "Captain's guest." McCoy thinks that is pretty damn illogical in his own brain so it must be a painful consideration for Spock's. The guest—an amphibious-looking creature with pitch black eyes—is escorted to a room. Considering the expressions of his fellow crewmates, minus the Captain, McCoy assumes that he isn't the only one who thinks the thing needs to be in the brig and not free to wander about the ship.

Of course, there is no positive proof that it is dangerous. But it literally kept Jim from his officers on that planet until it decided otherwise, which shows a crafty intelligence and an unannounced motive that makes McCoy wary.

Worse, the thing doesn't communicate—McCoy wonders if it even has vocal cords—but Jim seems to understand what it wants without the need for speech. The last time that Leonard checked, Kirk wasn't telepathic.

He'd already tried addressing his concerns with the Captain in the transporter room.

_Doctor McCoy grabbed the Captain's arm in a tight grip. "What the Hell did you do, Jim?"_

_Jim gave him an odd look and then twisted away to step off of the platform. "I think it's obvious, Bones. I brought him with us."_

_"Why? For God's sake, man, why would you do that!"_

_"He was stranded." Jim looked from McCoy to the creature, who tilted its head and made a warbling noise that had the security officers take an automatic step back and reach for their phasers._

_The Captain fairly snapped, "Stand down."_

_That did little to dissipate the tension in the room._

_Spock, bless his green-blooded heart, attempted to talk sense with Kirk. "Captain, your decision was... unusual, given that we do not have prior knowledge or acquaintance with—" Here the Vulcan stopped, paused._

_Jim supplied, amused, "Friend, Spock. He is my friend."_

_"—your friend. I should like to request a briefing with this friend of yours, if you will grant permission."_

_"Permission denied, Mr. Spock. He is a guest, not a prisoner." Jim then added, for McCoy's benefit, no doubt, "Would you have had me leave him alone on a deserted planet?"_

_Yes. Leonard hadn't said that. Instead he asked, "Do you realize that while you were chatting with your old buddy, we were desperately trying to get to you? You disappeared__, Jim, into thin air and when we finally found you, you were with that _thing_. Forgive me for being a little skeptical, Captain!"_

_Jim looked confused at that moment and Leonard used that to his advantage. "You owe us an explanation."_

_He hoped he had reached Kirk through whatever hoodoo the stranger had laid on their Captain. Jim may be rash on occasion, but the man would never endanger his crew willingly, not unless there was no other choice. Everyone knows that about Captain Kirk, even a certain Vulcan._

_Then Kirk disappointed him. "We'll discuss this later . In private, Doctor, Mr. Spock."_

_As Jim turned away from them all, Leonard tried one last time. "As Chief Medical Officer, I have the right to demand that he be evaluated by my staff." At the Captain's hard look, he added, "Standard procedure for all new arrivals aboard the ship. You know that."_

_Jim looked at the creature once. Then he replied, "Very well, McCoy."_

_"And Jim?" McCoy squared his shoulders. "I want to see you after his examination. For your own."_

So here Leonard is, waiting like a good little CMO for his latest patient to turn up. Damn Jim. The kid is being belligerently late because Leonard had pulled rank.

The initial scans and readings on the creature had proved useless. Its body gave indication of functioning, so McCoy can at least strike _non-living entity_ from his growing mental list of what it could be. There was a low level of psi-activity, not enough to indicate that it has a highly developed capacity for mind-speech or mental coercion. McCoy has already forwarded his results to Spock for further perusal. Between the two of them, he hopes that they can figure out what in the Hell it is doing to Jim.

Who knows, maybe they can find a way to ask it directly.

For some reason, the doctor had almost been loathe to touch his patient. This is, quite simply, strange for McCoy. Besides that his profession requires contact with other species, Leonard has always maintained a healthy curiosity. Whatever this creature is, it affects him easily. Leonard concludes that either he instinctively senses that it is up to no good or the thing emits some kind of repellent on purpose.

McCoy learns back in his office chair and thinks on the one incident during the examination that had startled him.

_The doctor said as he slowly waved his tricorder around its head, "Can you understand me?"_

_The patient regarded him with unreadable eyes (black like space and probably as cold, in McCoy's opinion). It continued to watch him in silence._

_Leonard put away the medical tricorder and leaned over to adjust the dials on the bioscanner. The console protested nothing, simply beeped softly and steadily. McCoy then pulled off his pair of protective gloves and commented wryly, "Well, from these results, I'm going to assume that you aren't space-diseased."_

_It opened and closed its mouth._

_Leonard's eyes were drawn to the scales along its neck. He wanted to take a sample but at that moment there was no way to judge the creature's reaction if he tried. McCoy was not equipped for battle, so to speak, and had no idea which sedatives would work, let alone what dosage to use._

_He completely missed the way its hand had slunk out until it grabbed his forearm. McCoy immediately jerked backwards. It dragged him close again with surprising strength. Cursing, he slapped at the alert button on the underside of the examination table with his free hand._

_"Let go!"_

_The creature twisted Leonard's arm up to its mouth. Leonard clamped a hand around the one holding him, pulling at its fingers, and snarled, "Don't you dare bite me, you overgrown lizard!"_

_It went still and Leonard was able to pry loose that painful grip (the hard skin could have been ice). Something happened, then, something unexpected and unnerving._

You are ill.

_The words appeared in his head, bright and bold like fireworks._

_McCoy wrenched his arm away and stared. Before he could find his voice, however, the Sickbay doors slid open and Spock entered. The Vulcan said, "The Captain has ordered that our guest be escorted to his room."_

_Still staring at the creature, McCoy responded, "I'm not done with all the tests yet."_

_"Doctor." Spock's voice had a quality to it that McCoy rarely heard—regret. "The Captain will not be persuaded otherwise."_

Leonard is brought back from his memories as Jim comes strolling through his office door. Kirk's obvious nonchalance grates on the doctor's last nerve. He jumps up from his chair and is in Jim's face faster than the kid can blink.

"You God-damn fool! Do you even care about the rest of us?"

Jim stiffens and pulls back. "You asked me to come and I did." His eyes are flinty steel. "Proceed with the exam, McCoy, or quit wasting my time."

Leonard bites back his angry retort. "Jim, I'm sorry. I was out of line," he admits. "I'm worried, kid," he says softly. "You don't seem like yourself since—"

"—since the planet," Jim finishes just as softly. The man sighs. "Bones, please don't worry."

"Shouldn't I? Are you jeopardizing the safety of this crew?"

"No!" The denial is shocked and fierce.

"Then what's with all the mystery? If it—he's really a past acquaintance, then why can't you tell us the details?"

Jim fidgets just enough that Leonard swallows an _oh shit_. "Jim," he begins slowly, "how well do you know him?"

A shrug is his answer.

"What's his name?"

"I don't know. He'd never tell me... before."

"And now?"

A flush. "I haven't asked."

"When's the last time you two saw each other?"

There is a brief silence. Then "Um, eighteen years?"

McCoy presses his lips together and makes a snap decision. He grabs Jim's arm and sits the Captain down at his desk. "Stay." At Jim's look, he pokes an unrelenting finger into the man's chest. "I'm serious, Jimmy. Don't budge _one inch_."

When McCoy comes back into his office, arms loaded with medical equipment, Jim has adapted a tolerant, albeit somewhat sullen, posture. Kirk eyes the things that the CMO is carrying and immediately protests. "No, Bones!"

"Yes, Captain." McCoy carefully arranges everything by proper order and picks up the first item. "This is for the contaminants you probably picked up."

Kirk winces at the jab of the hypospray.

"You're looking a little red. This will negate any effects of sunstroke, because God knows how long you were on that beach."

Jim tries to get away, but Leonard catches him and administers the shot.

The Captain holds his tender neck with the expression of a man standing in front of a firing squad.

McCoy holds up an extra-large hypospray. "_And this one's because you are damned stupid!_"

"Okay, okay! Truce!"

Leonard reluctantly puts it back down on the desk. "What's the matter with you, Jim? What on God's green earth possessed you to beam someone _you don't know_ onto a starship _when he __could be a threat?_"

Jim answers simply, "He asked me to."

McCoy sits on top of the desk, crosses his arms and says, "Explain."


	4. Part Four

**Part Four**

* * *

Jem-me.

_Jim paused in his walking, eyebrows drawn together in concentration. Then the Captain resumed movement. His phaser was in a steady hand and his body language radiated alertness._

Jem.

_Kirk stopped again, this time calling out, "Identify yourself!" He has experienced the sensation of being followed since he took a turn around a crop of rocks and inexplicably lost sight of his team. Now there is a large stretch of flat dusty ground and little else. His communicator spits static._

_Jim is no idiot. He has been in a similar situation that ended in a two-day stay in an underground prison run by angry little people that looked like dwarves; the end result was some uncomfortable (unfortunately deadly) injuries and an unhappy First Officer and Chief Medical Officer who watched him like hawks for the next three away missions._

_Kirk whirled around at the sound of a dislodged scattering of stones, and stared. To his left was a cliff which had previously been miles of dirt._

_So whatever is stalking him wants to play games._

_With slow determination, Captain Kirk approached the edge of the cliff and peered over. He waited tensely for the feeling of a presence at his back. Instead, he was greeted with the sight of a small speck of a figure on a beach. Jim opened his mouth to speak, and in that split second, he felt a sense of disorientation and leapt back from the edge so that he wouldn't fall._

_He would later swear that he felt his entire body shift. An instinctive backwards leap somehow transformed into an impromptu shift of molecules, and Kirk blinked his eyes to find himself on the beach. From his new position, the cliff towered overhead and the roar of the ocean was loud in his ears._

_He whipped his phaser on the mark not fifteen feet away before he realized what—and who—he was looking at._

_The thing greeted him. _Jem_, it said, a whisper in his mind._

_Kirk's knees weakened and he widened his stance to keep from dropping to the sand. His brain took a moment to work through the unlikelihood of this creature's identity and yet concluded that it could be no other. He was instantly taken back to a time when he was young; the fascination of _then _roared to the surface and became the fascination of _now.

_"You can't be here," he said dumbly._

_It hunkered down on all fours and proceeded to crawl toward him. Jim resisted the urge to backpedal, a grown man's caution overriding a youngster's curiosity. He stared at the long-fingered hand that reached out to him._

_Is it touch-telepathic like a Vulcan?_

_He would have said yes before today. Now that it has lured him here—however impossible—he had to reconsider his assumptions._

_It spoke, then, without physical contact._

Hello, child.

_"I'm not a child" was the automatic response. Then Kirk added, "I don't understand. Sp—my first officer confirmed that there were no substantial lifeforms besides micro-organisms and vegetation on this planet. You can't be here."_

We meet again, friend.

_"You can't be here!" he reiterated with intensity. Kirk trained his phaser on the creature. "Whatever you are, you have no right to invade a man's memories. You have no—"_

PEACE!

_The word echoed like a shot._

_Kirk lowered his weapon, opting to reach for his communicator. It refused to establish contact with the ship or the people who should have been with him. Anger rose in place of the certain dread that his crew might be in danger. "I don't remember you being so deceptive, friend," Jim told it. "What have you done with my people?"_

_It dropped its hand, resigned that Jim would not touch it._

I have waited long. I have followed and waited.

_He swallowed hard. "What do you mean? You've been following me? But... you live in the ocean."_

Jem-me remembers his friend from the water. There is water, here.

_The creature turned his head first right and then left as if to say_ See? Familiar, isn't it? _The surroundings, however, did not fit on a hot and dry planet which had few bodies of water. It felt pleased, that much Jim understood, like it had fulfilled a task asked of it. Only Jim hadn't instructed, asked or otherwise had contact with this creature since he was nine years old. Confused and unnerved seemed like apt descriptions for his emotions right then. He watched as it settled back on its legs and tilted its head._

Sit_, it said._

_He sat without meaning to. When it reached for his face, his arms were too heavy to lift to stop it. The touching of their skin was numbed with cold and Jim wanted badly to protest, because he didn't remember it being this forceful. In fact, in that moment, his mind could recall little except for a sudden sense of peace, falsely fed into his very core. His body was relaxing, reminiscent of the many times he had, as a child, felt no fear when visiting this dragon of the sea. In the end, Jim's body betrayed his last struggle against a will not his own._

* * *

"Well?" McCoy asks. "I have all shift and the next if necessary, Jim. Let's hear that explanation."

Kirk momentarily bites at his lower lip and leans back into the chair. "I—It's fuzzy, sometimes," he admits. "But I am sure that it asked me for permission to, uh, hitch a ride."

Leonard's eyebrow goes up. "Hitch a ride? Where, exactly?"

Jim shrugs.

"You aren't helping your case here, kid. We don't 'give rides' to every damn thing that wants on this ship."

McCoy reaches out to touch his long-time friend and is startled when Jim flinches and says, "Don't."

"Jim?"

The Captain shoves a hand through his short hair. "I don't know, Bones. I can see the memory of what happened in my head, but it doesn't... feel like it is real. Does that make sense?"

"Too much," says the doctor grimly. "It's got some kind of power that we can't begin to measure; power that kept us from getting to you and power that affects you even now."

The man opens his mouth as if to speak but quickly shuts it with a grimace. Kirk stands, then, and pivots to the door. "He wants to talk to me."

Leonard leaps between Jim and the door to his office. "Hell no, Jimmy. You shouldn't go anywhere near it unless someone—a lot of us—are with you!"

"Bones," his voice sounds strange as he absently tries to step past the doctor, "I have to go. He says it's important."

"Jim! Goddamn it! Wait, I'm coming with you!"

But Jim is no longer listening, and by the time McCoy can grab his previously abandoned hypospray of sedatives, the Captain has disappeared from Sickbay like a ghost.

Leonard hollers to a wide-eyed Christine on his hasty exit, "Comm Spock! Tell him that Jim is in trouble!"

* * *

McCoy rounds the corner of a corridor used for diplomatic guests on Deck 42 at the same time that Spock appears in the opposite direction with a security team behind him.

_Thank God Spock's always prepared_, Leonard thinks as he meets the group halfway. Out loud he says, "That blasted thing is leading Jim around by the nose. He walked out of my office like a damn zombie."

"I have secured this level, Doctor. The ship's computer indicates that both the Captain and two unknown entities are residing in the guest's quarters."

That stops Leonard dead in his tracks. "Two?" he repeats with dread.

"Affirmative."

He and Spock take a quick measure of one another. They seem to reach the same conclusion: Jim needs rescuing. _NOW._

When they step up to the door simultaneously, Spock asks the doctor to allow him to proceed. The doctor replies that a certain hobgobin can go stick his oversized ego in a bucket of cold water if he thinks that Leonard McCoy is going to hide behind him like a girl. The Vulcan simply maneuvers the CMO slightly behind his right shoulder and hands him a phaser. McCoy scowls and transfers his loaded hypospray into his other hand. Dually armed, Leonard is hot on Spock's heels when they burst into the creature's living quarters.

There is no one but Jim to greet them. The Captain is stiff-backed in a chair placed directly in the center of the room.

Leonard starts forward with "Jim" but Spock interrupts with "Captain, do you require assistance?"

"No," Jim answers and smiles.

"That's not Jim," McCoy bites out. "I'll be damned if that's Jim."

"Perhaps," agrees the Vulcan. The security officers have squeezed themselves in around the sides of the room, but still remain in the background. Spock watches the man in front of them with sharp speculation. "Captain, are you under duress?"

"Of course not, Mr. Spock" is the flat reply.

Spock takes one step forward. "We will leave on your command."

"The Hell we will!" rages McCoy.

"Doctor," the First Officer states without preamble or bothering to turn around. "The Captain's orders must be obeyed." He is still watching Jim as he speaks.

Leonard stares at the back of Spock's head, trying to decipher what the crazy Vulcan is telling him. "Sure, Spock," he suddenly agrees. The doctor makes a show of tucking his phaser into the back of his pants. "Whatever Jim wants, Jim gets." His look is black when he glares at the man in the chair. The red-shirted officers appear uneasy and uncertain of what game is currently being played; they are neither willing to relinquish their weapons nor make a threatening move against their Captain.

The Vulcan lowers his weapon and walks in a half-circle approximately five feet from Kirk. McCoy decides to circle in the other direction. They stop when they are both perfectly aligned with Jim's rigid shoulders.

Spock speaks, then. "Jim," he asks softly, "a direction, if you will."

Leonard is most certainly confused and valiantly attempting to appear otherwise. _What in God's name is Spock talking about?_

Kirk says, "Starboard."

McCoy realizes belatedly that starboard is, in fact, a real direction; in another second after that, his brain fairly shouts that he,_ Leonard McCoy, _is on the starboard side. The Vulcan's phaser arm comes up swiftly and Leonard only has time to choke out a shocked "Spock!"

The First Officer fires at the CMO.


	5. Part Five

**Part Five**

* * *

McCoy comes back to awareness with a groan, his body vehemently protesting when he shifts position. There is nausea, a burning sensation in the middle of his chest, and slow response-time of aching muscles. It's the after-effects of being stunned by a phaser; he recognizes the symptoms. At this point, Leonard cannot classify his injuries well, knows only that the throbbing is a sign that he must be alive.

It's then that Leonard's brain becomes alert enough to draw conclusions.

He sits up with a gasp. "Spock!" The name resounds with the memory of horror before he'd been sent into oblivion.

A warning bell begins to sound insistently over his head on the bio-console. That brings a familiar face to his side in an instant—Nurse Chapel. She says "Len!" with evident relief and pushes him back down into the biobed. Christine tells him, "It's alright, Doctor. You're fine."

Leonard thinks that everyone must have gone insane. "Fine?" He slaps at her hand in irritation. "Chris, _Spock _stunned me! That_ traitor_—_that_—" There are little words to describe how betrayed he presently feels.

Christine worries her lower lip, and McCoy puts his rage and hurt to the side to ask, "What happened? Where's Jim?"

"The Captain and Mr. Spock are gone, Len."

The words are so hushed that they could be a whisper. He automatically wonders who she doesn't want to overhear this conversation. Leonard tries to peer around the curtained area but Christine is successfully blocking his view. He rolls to his side, ignoring the stinging in his legs and arms, and shrugs off the nurse's poor attempt at restraining him. McCoy limps from his Isolation unit (why is he in Isolation for being stunned?) and into the main patient area of the medical bay.

He starts shivering the moment the cold air hits him. For all the silence and unsettled atmosphere he senses, Leonard might have walked into a graveyard. The four security officers—the ones that had followed Spock and McCoy into the creature's quarters—are each resting comfortably on a biobed. They show no signs of distress and injury; in fact, their monitors have normal stats, those that he can see. Leonard reaches for a PADD chart and scrolls through the medical log of Lieutenant Omo. His hand is lightly shaking before he is halfway through the report. Christine gently takes the PADD from him.

"All of you were brought in at the same time. We separated you from the others because you showed signs of recovery."

Leonard steels himself. "Who—?"

"Mr. Spock—and the Captain. A passing ensign in the corridor heard the shout of one of the security officers, actually saw the Captain corner the man and—take him down. Luckily, Ensign Garis had the sense to hide until Mr. Spock and Captain Kirk left the area."

"What do you mean, Chris, by 'take him down?'"

She hesitates. "Accordingly to Garis, Kirk simply touched the officer and he dropped like a stone."

"Into a catatonic state? Jesus!"

"We've tried... everything, Len. Their bodies will cooperate, react to pain or outside stimulus, but it's as if they are on automatic pilot." Christine wraps her arms around herself. "When you look into their eyes, there's nothing there."

Leonard mutters, "Like something locked away their souls."

She nods. "Dr. M'Benga's orders are to keep them sedated."

McCoy nods his approval. They stare at each other for a span of four heartbeats before Leonard wonders aloud, "Why me, Chris? Why was I only stunned, instead of—" He swallows hard. "Either Spock or Jim could have easily disarmed me and taken me down too."

"They didn't." Her eyes say _I don't know why, Leonard, but I am grateful._

McCoy spends a silent moment checking over the status of each officer, a frown firmly in place, before he paces to his office, tapping a finger against his mouth. His legs protest the sharp movements and desperately want to fold, so McCoy settles himself into a chair to be safe. _How ironic_, he thinks. Not a few hours ago, Jim sat in this chair, full of woes. No doubt, the kid—stranger—had been feeding him shovelfuls of crap. And McCoy was dumb enough to be strung along into a trap.

Christine enters the CMO's office with M'Benga. Leonard does not protest when Geoff runs a tricorder over him and tries to determine Leonard's discomfort. McCoy isn't allowed to skip the details or refuse the low-dosage pain medication Christine administers into the side of his neck with a gentle depression of a hypospray. The relief is almost instantaneous.

More clear-minded, though weary, Leonard stays in a sitting position for a while, sorting through the past events. It takes time before he can will himself not to live in the moment that Spock turned on him. The professional detachment that he depends on is hard to find. Leonard remembers the way that Spock watched Jim, asked for his orders and…

_Received them, obviously. _Leonard accepts the painful possibilities. With a sigh, he finally levers himself from the chair and his _hurt-misery-denial_. Christine is completing the standard vitals report on their new patients.

He waits until she approaches him. "Spock said something strange to me. He said that there were two entities besides Kirk."

"How can that be?" she wants to know.

"It can't," he replies. "At least, I don't think so."

"Mr. Spock wouldn't lie."

"That's right, Spock wouldn't. We can safely assume that_ that_ wasn't Spock. I'd bet my eye-teeth whatever thing is here, it is havin' a real ball watching us figure out its game." He hides his trembling hands by crossing his arms.

Christine replaces the last PADD in its proper place. Her words are quiet. "We may be working blind, Leonard, but—"

He nods and finishes, "—it's obvious I'm the one who's been picked to play."

* * *

McCoy enters the Bridge to find Sulu uneasy in the Captain's chair. The pilot automatically reports that neither the Captain nor the First Officer have been located on the ship. Chekov explains that the ship's sensors do not identify humanoid life-forms on the planet which the Enterprise still orbits. McCoy takes a long look at each drawn or pinched face. They feel as he does.

How are they going to get Jim and Spock back?

Leonard tells the navigator, "I need you to pull up the security feed from around the time that Spock escorted Jim's guest out of Sickbay."

Nyota is grim-faced, her dark eyes worried. "What do you suspect, Doctor?"

"I'm not sure yet, darlin'. But if Spock is as hoodoo-ed—" _Or worse_, he doesn't say. "—as Jim, then we need to figure out when it happened. Spock was alone with the creature, wasn't he?"

Chekov mutters over the security console. They wait with bated breath until he announces "I've found it! Wait…"

Leonard leans over his shoulder. "What is it?"

"You can see here that Mr. Spock takes the thing—" They watch the creature scuttle across down the corridor slightly behind the Vulcan's back. People make a wide berth for the strange pair to pass. "—to its room but…" Chekov's words die out as he enters a series of rapid commands into the computer. A new scene pops up and together they watch from the viewpoint of inside the quarters. The door slides open with Spock silhouetted in the entrance, the creature nothing more than a shadow behind him. Then the screen blacks out.

"What the Hell?"

"The feed fails at this point, Doctor." Chekov turns a worried angular face to McCoy. "I have checked the connection and it is fine."

"So it's definitely screwing with us at every turn. Damn it!"

"Sulu!"

McCoy jerks his head towards Nyota. She adjusts her earpiece and says, "I'm picking up a transmission. I—wait, it sounds like—" She curses loudly, then, and hastily wrenches the earpiece away with a grimace. They can all hear the shrill noise which shrieks from the unit. Uhura's face is pained when she looks at McCoy. "For a moment, I thought I heard Spock."

Leonard stares. "What was he saying? Was he trying to establish communication with the ship?"

"It cut out too quickly, Doctor, but I can trace it. Hold on." She turns her back to them. "It came from… the planet. It came from the planet!" She sounds as unhappy and confused as Leonard feels.

Sulu punches a button on the armrest of the Captain's chair. "Sulu to Transporter Room, report."

"Mr. Scott, here."

"Scotty, has the Captain or Mr. Spock used the transporter?"

"Nay, lad. I've got me eyes peeled for those two. 'Sides, we're on lockdown here. I'd know if one of 'em tried to use their codes to get through the door."

McCoy circles around to stand beside the chair. "Scotty, we picked up a signal from the surface."

There is a moment of silence. "If they're down there, Doctor, they coulda used a shuttle."

McCoy looks to Chekov who replies quickly enough, "All shuttles docked and inactive."

"It makes no sense," Leonard says half to himself. "The ship says there is no one on the planet and yet it can't locate Jim or Spock aboard. God-damn it, they've got to be somewhere!"

Sulu says quietly, "We should assume that the Enterprise is under hostile control."

McCoy answers with a kind of grim determination. "Yes. And that means we'll have to complete a manned search of the ship_ and_ the planet."

When they do find the missing Captain and First Officer that will be a whole other—much bigger—mess to handle. Leonard's gut foretells that the outcome will be unpleasant for all parties involved.


	6. Part Six

**Part Six**

* * *

McCoy places a fist against the wall and leans on his body weight on it, head down.

Xenopolycythemia.

Fuck.

He is officially between a rock and a hard place—somewhere that no man with a conscience would want to be. His choice will affect lives, will without doubt condemn someone no matter which way he picks.

Why him?

Damn that monster.

That's what it is now. A monster. Leonard has tried to understand the creature, what it could possibly want from the crew (maybe, just maybe it wasn't evil), but now he knows the truth.

It wants to destroy them all.

And it wants McCoy to give the okay to proceed with that destruction.

He trembles in his position, not from the mildly cold air of his quarters, but from the icy dread that grips his insides. It's not the only thing trying to kill him—that would be the guilt and the fucking disease of which he is beginning to show minute signs.

Here in these quarters, his own, is where it all started. Leonard turns his face towards the bathroom, staring just for a moment at a memory, and then closes his eyes.

Here, he received the worst ultimatum of his life.

* * *

_Three days prior…_

The long, thorough search commenced that evening. All crew are placed into groups of three to five, given time intervals and places to search. The entire ordeal is a headache to organize, and more than once McCoy thinks of how Spock would have calculated and planned the perfect schedule for everyone. But they do not have that Vulcan talent at their disposal.

McCoy is not due for another fifteen minutes in the medical bay. He sits up from his quick nap, scrubbing a hand over his stubbled jaw. Leonard is tired beyond compare—more so than usual. His body is still recovering from the sharp, nerve-scrambling stun it had endured. After a minute of feeling sorry for himself and the Enterprise's God awful situation, he walks into his bathroom and brushes his teeth to rid himself of the taste of staleness. His eyes are red-rimmed and Leonard looks just plain bad.

_Damn it, why them? Why Jim and Spock?_

Sure those two are like a beacon for every powerful, hungry, or downright evil being in the galaxy—Jim with his arrogance and Spock with his insufferable Vulcan-ness and penchant for jumping after Kirk into the fire.

Leonard doesn't know what he's going to do if they can't get them back.

He leans down to spit out a mouthful of foam and paste. After a quick rinse, Leonard wipes his mouth with a towel and straightens. His quick glance into the mirror makes his body freeze and his heart clench painfully.

Spock is behind him, watching McCoy with dark, unreadable eyes.

Leonard's mouth drops open and says "Spock." Idly, he realizes that he is beginnning to sound like a broken record. The doctor spins around, gripping the edges of the counter with white knuckles.

The Vulcan has his arms crossed and one foot propped against the bathroom wall. His posture is strange, too much like Jim when the kid feels particularly cocky. Spock doesn't do cocky.

McCoy's mouth leads with the only question that seems relevant just then. "How did you get in here?" It's an impossible feat without so much as alerting McCoy. The bathroom is like a long narrow galley with a door on each end.

"Doctor, I wish to speak with you."

"Don't call me that," he spits. "You aren't fooling me. You aren't Spock!"

The Vulcan tilts his head just as Spock would have but then that mouth curls at the corners like a cat. McCoy is so unnerved that he instinctively grabs something—anything—which happens to be his toothbrush and throws it at the Vulcan's head. Leonard darts for his open door but strong hands grab the back of his tunic and won't let go. McCoy is forced into a small space of wall between the counter and the doorjamb. Spock—this thing that looks like Spock, has the exotic smell of incense that Spock carries—blocks any possibility of escape with his tall body wedging in close to McCoy's.

Leonard struggles once, cursing, against the unbreakable hold on his throat before he goes limp.

"Please," he says. "C-can't… breathe!"

It releases him.

Leonard ignores how much he is shaking and lifts his gaze to meet the cold, feeling one. "What have you done with Spock?"

"I am Spock."

"The Hell you are! Spock would never—"

It says with Spock's mouth "_I am S'chn T'gai Spock_."

"Fuck you! Why are you doing this to us?"

It seems to consider its answer. Leonard desperately tries to think of a way to get past him, to get away and warn people—get a God-damn phaser—when it reaches out with a hand.

McCoy flinches backwards, his head connecting sharply with the wall. "Don't!"

"It will not hurt… Leonard."

His body goes stiff as a board when those fingertips brush along his cheek, the side of his nose. Leonard turns his face to the side, helpless.

But the hand pulls back.

McCoy's body is in serious terrified revolt. He cannot stop its wild heartbeat or profuse chilled sweats.

"You are ill."

"No shit," he manages in an unsteady voice. "I'm in the m-middle of a p-panic attack. About to be mind-raped by sadistic fuck like you!" Oh, Oh God he is not there. This is the USS Enterprise, not the other place, the bad place where Spock has a beard and a mind that can shred through Leonard's like a dagger.

He realizes belatedly that the bathroom is silent. Trying to get himself under control, Leonard says in a hoarse voice, "Please step back. I w-won't run, I promise. Just give me a little breathing room, okay?"

Surprisingly, it does as he asks. That, unfortunately, fails to mean that it will cease to torture him with words. "You are ill," it repeats flatly.

"Would you shut up!"

"Your destiny is sour."

That gives Leonard pause. "What in God's—you can't taste fucking destiny! It ain't peanut butter, for crying out loud."

"_Jem-me_," it says in a voice that is suddenly too strange to be Spock's. "Jem-me has a good destiny."

At the mention of Jim's name, Leonard forgets that he is sick to his stomach and tries to punch the not-Spock. "What did you do to Jim?"

It swats him back against the wall like a knat. Damn it, it has Spock's Vulcan strength—that's for sure.

Leonard doesn't stop with the dire threats. "You can't get away with what you're doin'! We'll stop you AND when we get Jim and Spock back, you're goin' straight to Hell!" His accent thickens the more upset he gets.

Amusement. Leonard doesn't know how he can sense that, but the emotion seems to seep out of it in waves. "I wait long," it tells McCoy as if it suddenly forgets proper speech and any pretense at playing the First Officer. "Long time for Jem to grow and reach his destiny. It is ripe now."

_What the fuck—?_ Leonard swallows hard. "What do you mean?"

"I like this one's destiny too—is good, strong."

"You can't have people's destinies," he says almost weakly. God knows that stealing destiny sounds like all kinds of _wrong_. It's just _not _possible.

It smiles knowingly at him, the look utterly foreign on Spock's face.

"He fights."

Rage boils unexpectedly to the surface of Leonard's horror. "I hope he—_they both_—tear you to pieces from the inside out!"

"Would you fight?" it asks with a simple innocence.

"Hell, yes!"

"I can save you," offers the creature. "I can save many, if you do not fight."

"I don't need savin'," he fairly spits.

The words are insistent. "_You are ill_."

Leonard closes his mouth, saying nothing for a minute. "I'm a doctor. I'd know if I was sick."

It reaches for him again, this time to his hair with a strange curiosity. The Spock-creature tells him simply, "You will be."

He can't resist. "We've cured most diseases in this century, in case you didn't know."

Suddenly the hand in his hair tightens and drags him forward with a quick pull. Leonard gasps and tries to lean away, the pain of his hair being pulled searing his scalp. His head is turned to the side as it leans in and sniffs at the skin along McCoy's neck. It is an awkward, falsely intimate position they are in and Leonard grits his teeth, praying that it will let him go.

When it does, he wastes no time and shoves hard into the man's breastbone, sending him stumbling backwards. Leonard pivots into the center of the bathroom, giving himself more room to maneuver. "Hands off!"

The thing looks directly at him, into him, with Spock's dark eyes and says very slowly, "Xeno-poly-cy-themia."

The denial that comes out of his mouth is a whisper. "_No_."

It repeats the condemning disease with certainty. It could be Spock himself announcing the most mundane fact.

Leonard locks his knees and shakes his head. "You're lying to me." _Of course it's lying._

"You will see. It begins now."

Leonard's brain, the traitorous bastard, says _exhaustion, McCoy, swelling of the metacarpophalangeal joints_. Closing his eyes, he attempts to block out everything. This thing wants to throw him off, needs to upset him in order to…

_What, exactly?_

He must have said that aloud because he is provided with an answer. "You will need a cure."

"There is no cure for xenopolycythemia," McCoy responds tightly. "If you're not an evil lying SOB, and I really think that's a moot point by now, then you know I won't buy false hope."

"I will give cure to Leonard and Leonard shall save himself and many, many others."

He stares for too long at this friend of Jim's that has turned out to be a monster instead. "You'll give me the cure for xenopolycythemia in exchange for what? My soul?"

"Illness makes your destiny taste bad—we fix—and I will have more, all."

He goes with his automatic response of "No!"

It approaches him steadily, and Leonard backs up. "Destiny is connected—Jem-me's destiny, this one's and yours. I need all."

Leonard chokes on his next words. "You want me to sacrifice Jim and Spock… for a cure?"

"You will save many lives," it tells him. "You will be a good doctor."

"I am a good doctor." It turns, then, away from him. "Damn you, I am a good doctor!" When Leonard's back hits the opposite door, the enemy is gone. McCoy drops to the floor and pillows his head in his arms.

_I am a good doctor_, he thinks. _Aren't I?_

Fuck.

He's dying.


	7. Part Seven

**Part Seven**

* * *

The Bridge crew assembles in the Ready Room for a hastily called conference by Doctor McCoy. Nyota notes how pinched and wane Leonard's face is, as he greets each person who takes a seat. Even his_ hello_'s seem forced and off-kilter.

She slides into her seat, feeling the strain of the last few days bearing down upon them all. McCoy does not sit like the rest; that alone signals trouble. When he begins to talk, she simultaneously leans forward to hear what he has to say and to brace herself for any upsetting news.

"I've been paid a visit by our friend," the doctor begins.

No one says a word or gasps in surprise. The room remains deadly silent. Leonard stands behind a chair, his hands planted in a hard grip on the back of it. Perhaps he needs something to hold onto, not for physical support but for grounding.

"Leonard," Nyota interrupts gently after he flounders for his next statement. "Did it hurt you?"

"No." The way he flinches indicates otherwise. She'll contact Christine in Sickbay and inform her of the situation in case McCoy hasn't. And he's apt not to, out of a stubborn insistence that he can take care of himself. Generally, it's Jim or Spock who corner McCoy, but they aren't here. Uhura tries not to carry that depressing thought too far.

"Anything you can tell us will be good, Doktor," inputs Chekov earnestly. "We must have information to help the Keptin and Mr. Spock."

"I do want to help them, so much," says McCoy, the last part practically a whisper. Is Uhura the only one picking up on how heartbroken Len sounds? "The creature cornered me in my quarters. Apparently, it's not afraid of gettin' caught." Leonard waves off any sharp concern or exclamations. "I'm fine, quit pestering me. I'd be in Sickbay otherwise."

The man pulls out the chair that he has been standing behind. He sags the moment that he is seated. Nyota wants to reach across the table for his hand, but it is too wide to breach.

McCoy's voice is weary. "It pretty much admitted that it had Jim and Spock."

"Did he say that he would let them go?"

"_No_." The word is too cutting. "Look," the doctor sighs and curls one hand into a loose fist on the table. "It didn't make any promises. Hell, I'm not sure what it did do, except confuse me."

When he pauses, Uhura urges, "Go on."

"It said that if I… gave it what it wanted, it would be happy."

Uhura feels confusion and instant dread; so do, judging the others by the looks on their faces. "What does it want?"

Leonard slowly looks up. When she can finally see McCoy's eyes, read them, she makes a small unhappy noise. They're abnormally bleak. "It wants me," he says without preamble.

Now there are loud protests and the scraping of chairs quickly abandoned. Sulu is on his feet, incensed. Chekov has risen, too, to catch at the pilot's arm.

Leonard looks startled. "Sulu, for Christ's sake—"

"—Doctor," the pilot says with fury, "if you think that any of us are going to stand by while another one of our shipmates—_our friends_—are taken by that thing—"

"No, Hikaru," Leonard says quickly, "I don't expect you to be happy about this. Hell, I'm damn terrified. But we've got to save Jim and Spock, and—"

"—not at the cost of you!"

Leonard's eyes drop to a half-hooded state. Uhura wonders what he is trying to hide.

"When is one man's life worth more than another's?" asks the doctor. "How do we make the decision to sacrifice a few for the good of the many?"

"We dinnae have to." The answer comes from, surprisingly, Montgomery Scott. Everyone turns to look at the previously quiet engineer. Scotty does not quail under their attention. His voice is even. "It's nae our responsibility to make that decision on the Enterprise. It's the Capt'n's."

"Jim's not here," Leonard replies in a quiet voice.

"Then meebe we should ask ourselves what he'd do."

Nyota could kiss the Scotsman in that moment. "Scotty's right. This creature, it will divide us if we let it. That's the last thing that J—Captain Kirk would want. He'd say that we have to stick together to beat the odds."

The snort from McCoy is a sound she has missed hearing, is grateful if only because it means that Leonard has been reached through whatever terrible thing is weighing on him. "Jim would still run off to save our hides without so much as a by-our-leave," Leonard points out.

"Aye," agrees the Scotsman amiably. "'N Mr. Spock would be right behind him."

That instigates a chorus of chuckles and faint smiles. Some of the tension in the room dissipates.

Nyota sobers, wiping discreetly at the corner of her eyes. She nips at her bottom lip once before diving straight for the hard facts. "Len, do you know why it wants you?"

"Well, it ain't 'cuz of my looks, darlin'," the replies man with a hint of grin. Then he sobers too. "It said something confangled about destiny."

"Destiny?" Uhura and Chekov echo the word.

"Yeah. Damnedest thing. Does the Federation have any record of meetin' a race that eats destiny?"

"Doctor, ye cannae be serious!"

"Serious as a heart-attack, Mr. Scott. It said that Jim and Spock's destinies tasted _good_."

"That's—" The Russian obviously has no translation into Standard for what he thinks about Leonard's statement. Uhura isn't sure herself.

"How can a living organism feed on a concept?"

"A concept created by mere mortals," Leonard adds. "You see? I said it didn't make any sense."

Sulu paces across the room. He asks McCoy, "Can you recall the conversation, word for word?"

The doctor hesitates and Nyota suspects that his hesitation has less to do with memory and more to do with something he isn't saying. But she knows that if she corners him now, here in the Ready Room with the others, he will clam up and get belligerent. McCoy is as stubborn as a male can be when he sets his heels down.

"I told you most of it," Leonard tells Sulu.

The pilot stares at the doctor for a just a minute too long. Then Sulu reminds them all, "Mr. Spock gave me the conn before he left. I'm not pulling rank, Doctor McCoy, but I am telling you that I am now responsible for the actions on this ship." He lowers his voice, then, to a tone more reminiscent of Sulu's earlier, rooky days aboard the Enterprise (like the rest of them). "I'm sorry, Leonard. I want them back as much as you. Can you try?"

Uhura doesn't like how Leonard sets his jaw. "Sulu, I think you're a damned fine officer and, frankly, I don't envy you your position right now. But I ain't got anything else… worth sharing."

Sulu is silent as he meets McCoy's gaze. Then he is so blunt that it's painful to hear. "I need a full report, Doctor McCoy. Immediately."

Leonard stands up. "I didn't have to come here and tell you—any of you—a damn thing. But we are working on trust, and that's a precise commodity these days. I need you to trust me. Trust me when I say that whatever else that monster ranted about has no relevance on helping Jim and Spock."

"Then why has it targeted _you?_" Sulu is like a dog with a bone, won't back down.

Uhura stands up, notes that Chekov and Scotty have too.

"Damn it, man, I don't know how it thinks! It only said that—" He bites off his next words.

Nyota comes around the table and touches Leonard on the arm. "Said what?"

Leonard throws up his hands in an _I-give-up_ gesture. "It said that my destiny was connected to Jim's and Spock's. And that's the stupidest excuse I've ever heard. The monster has grabbed a couple of fish from the kettle and I happen to be one of 'em." His half-smile is hard and unpleasant. It falters under Nyota's stare. Leonard breathes deeply. "I'm just makin' matters worse, aren't I?" He turns his face from her. "I thought that… it'd help."

"What do you mean?" she asks gently.

"Telling you. That it would help. I was wrong."

Sulu's brows come down. "The Captain and the First Officer of the Enterprise are MIA, possibly under mind control, and you _regret_ informing this ship's officers about something that could save lives?"

Leonard snaps defensively, "Don't twist my words! This is hard enough already."

Uhura reaches a hand to McCoy's face, turns his head to look at her. "Leonard, you may think that you don't have a choice, but you do. No one here will ask you to give in." She cuts a hard look at Sulu. "_No one_."

Leonard jerks a hand through his hair. "We don't have any other options, Nyota. _I _don't have other options." He steps back from the conference table with a sigh so deep-felt that Uhura aches in response. "I'm a doctor. I can't ignore this opportunity to save lives."

Scotty remarks, "I'm with McCoy. We cannae condemn the Captain and Mr. Spock. They're prisoners!"

Leonard looks at Sulu. "How are we going to get to them otherwise?" he reasons. "Not one of us has a fucking clue—" His fist thumps the table for emphasis. Nyota is oddly reminded of Jim. "—where they are, if they are really in their own damn bodies! We just don't know."

"I don't want my friends to die," Chekov says in a low, sorrowful tone.

No one does.

That quiets Leonard. Uhura lays a hand on the doctor's shoulder, then, and his shoulders slump. He slides out from under her touch and heads for the door. Chekov and Uhura protest almost simultaneously with "Doktor!" and "Len! Please!"

He turns to them, addresses all the worried faces in the room. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have… asked this of y'all. The truth is that I don't think I can live with myself not matter how I choose. I can accept that." He takes that last step which sends the door sliding open, the light of the corridor a bright backdrop. "Try to forgive me, will you?"

And with those words, Leonard McCoy is gone.

Scotty says, breaking the stillness, "I dinnae like the sound of that."

_Me either_, Nyota thinks. She says instead, "We've got a ship to run. Let's not give this thing more opportunities to use against us."

They all agree.

* * *

"Have you made a decision?"

It's Jim, this time.

Leonard allows the door to his office to slide closed and engages the locks by voice command. "Yes" is the quiet answer. "I've decided that we'll deal on my terms."

Kirk leans back in the chair and props a boot on the edge of McCoy's desk. "Are your terms better?"

McCoy clenches a fist. "I'd say they are a sight better than what you're offerin', you piece of space trash."

That laugh is pure Jim.

"Jem-me thinks you are a character. I did not understand this word before. I agree with Jem-me."

Crossing his arms because there is little else to do, Leonard snaps out, "Shut up or I'll raise such Cain you'll be lucky you aren't pitch-forked in the corridor."

It tilts that blond head, amused. (Always fucking amused, McCoy knows, especially when it believes it is winning.)

"I'll give you what you want but you have to give me something in return."

"Cure," it says slowly. "I give Leonard cure."

The monster is forgetting grammar again. Interesting.

"That's not much of a deal since you're going to cure me and then make me a puppet. I need something better."

"You will cure others."

"Yeah, well, in case you hadn't figured this out, Captain James T. Kirk and Commander Spock are important people to some other _very _important people. If they knew about this little scheme of yours, you'd be up shit creek. What's a cure_ now _that will probably be discovered in the future, anyway? No, the brass wouldn't deal at all _with you_."

Damn if Leonard isn't lying through his teeth. Starfleet Command, no doubt, considers them all a dime a dozen. But the creature blinks at him and McCoy would bet that that means he has its full attention.

"So, since I know you won't let them go—it'd defeat your purpose, right?—then you've got to bend a little." McCoy takes one step forward, trying to envision himself to be as intimidating as a tall, hard-eyed Vulcan might be.

"What does Leonard desire?" it asks.

"Let me talk to 'em," he says. "Release them just long enough to have a decent conversation, and then you've got me."

"Just with Leonard," it says with a hint of suspicion.

He nods. "That's right. Just with me."

The creature-monster-_unknown entity of epicly bad proportions_ gives the dying doctor's proposal a moment's consideration.

Then it agrees.

**

* * *

Er, are people getting bored yet?**


	8. Part Eight

**So sorry! I've been swamped with work lately (it's the busy season) and have fiddled with this for the past three days.**

**

* * *

**

**Part Eight**

* * *

Bones.

_Bones!_

"_BONES!_"

Leonard groans, opens his eyes once and immediately shuts them again. The face that he had seen in that brief moment had been Jim's. McCoy manages to catch the whisper of the man's name before he can voice it. His last memory is of the thing which looked like the Captain coming straight at him…

There is a light touch along the side of his face; it's surprisingly comforting. Kirk is still talking. "Bones, hey. C'mon, can you focus for me?"

"_Urgh_." That means _No, go away, you ass_.

"Boooones."

It's the way that the word is drawn out, with just the right amount of teasing and pleading, that causes McCoy to obey. The first thing he sees is a wide smile which is nearly more blinding than the sun. It belongs, of course, to James Tiberius Kirk.

Jim turns down the wattage of his smile and helps the doctor sit up. Leonard rubs the side of his head as if doing so could possibly dispel his terrible headache. He mutters, "What the—"

"Boy are we glad to see you!" Jim crows as he presses in close to Leonard's side.

"Captain," a voice interrupts their reunion, "unfortunately I must disagree. Given current circumstances, Doctor McCoy's presence likely entails a new, rather detrimental development to our situation."

There is a sigh from Jim. "I know that, Spock."

"Jim, is it really you?" Leonard is now clear-headed enough to hope. "Spock?" He cranes his neck around to see the silhouette of the Vulcan. "Well, I'll be damned."

"I imagine that we all are, Bones," Kirk says dryly.

It's then that McCoy makes sense of everything. He takes his first good look at his surroundings and proceeds to curse with an inventiveness that has Spock's eyebrows flying to his hairline. "We're on the Goddamn planet!" shouts the doctor.

Jim stretches first one leg and then his other leg out in front of him. McCoy notices that the Captain's clothes are rumpled, stained, and filthy with dirt. The kid's odor isn't all that great either.

Kirk rolls his eyes when Leonard says as much. "What do you expect? I haven't showered in a week."

"But you—" Leonard bites off what he was going to say. Instead he quickly asks, "How long have you been here?"

"Since we beamed down."

McCoy stares. "_Shit._ Seriously?"

Jim grimaces and nods. Then Leonard looks over his shoulder but before he can voice the same question to the First Officer, Spock responds, "Since our last meeting, Doctor."

"You mean when you tried to stun me to death?"

"Spock," Jim exclaims furiously, "you didn't mention that!"

The Vulcan has circled around the pair of Humans on the ground to stand in front of them. Leonard sees the sharp V of Spock's eyebrows. His mouth goes dry. "You, uh… that wasn't you, was it?"

"No, Doctor" comes the grave reply. "I was referring to our brief discussion in Sickbay before the departure of myself and the Captain's guest."

The Captain makes a very displeased noise.

"Well, I'm gonna safely assume that we all agree that thing ain't Jim's friend." Leonard had meant to break the tension, but Jim's automatic slump means McCoy has, no doubt, stuck his foot in his mouth. Before he can address Kirk's guilt—or why the kid shouldn't feel guilty—there is a low rumble in the distance.

Jim and Spock are on instant alert and already facing in the opposite direction before McCoy can get to his feet or figure out what in God's name is going on.

"This isn't funny!" rages the Captain. "You can't keep us stranded here!"

_But it can_, Leonard thinks as he comes to stand beside the two officers—and his friends. It most certainly can, especially if transporting them is as easy as McCoy suspects the creature finds the task to be. He'd been talking to the not-Jim one moment, wondering if he had just make the dumbest mistake of all, when it had looked at him, grinned, and slammed him into the wall of his office.

Then Leonard woke up to find himself on the fucking surface, apparently stranded with the real Jim and Spock.

An unnerving thought slips in. It says_ what if this is trick and that blasted monster is laughing up his sleeve at my gullibility?_

Leonard shoves that away as quickly as it forms. He doesn't have time to wonder; he doesn't have the heart, either, not now that the days seem suddenly too short. Dying makes a world of difference—prompts a man see his life in a whole new perspective.

Fuck, he doesn't want to die yet.

Spock and Jim aren't paying attention to him at the moment. They are concentrating on yelling—or rather, Captain Kirk is—at a horizon of red and gold. McCoy prods Spock in the side with his elbow.

"Has Jim lost his mind?"

The Vulcan answers without looking at the doctor. "Negative. This particular phenomenon proceeds what Jim refers to as—" There is a short pause. "—_feeding time_."

McCoy lifts an eyebrow. "What are we, pigs being fattened up for the slaughter house?"

"Ah, an excellent example of the barbaric nature of Terrans. The treatment of porcine in Earth history—"

McCoy interrupts before Spock can warm to the subject. "Normally I'd say to each his own, but after meeting those pig-people last year…" His smile is rueful. "Can't say I've been able to view pork chops in quite the same way."

Jim stops ranting in order to figure out why neither Spock nor McCoy has joined him. He looks between them. "What are we discussing?"

For the first time in a long week, McCoy finds himself bouncing slightly on the balls of his feet. "Superior Vulcan eating habits," he quips.

"Doctor." That one word is Spock's tactful way of emphasizing how illogical McCoy's answer is.

Leonard ignores the Vulcan. "I was asking Spock why y'all were making such a fuss."

Jim's eyes flash at the reminder. "When this bastard finally shows up, I plan to plead insanity for why I had to rip him to shreds." Spock makes no comment, probably because he has had to listen to his Captain think on the subject of revenge for days. There are times when it's better to step out of Jim Kirk's way. This would be one of them.

McCoy absentmindedly drags a hand through his hair. "Jim," he says, deciding it's better to be forthright while they are still together, "I gotta be honest. I'm not sure you or Spock are, you know, _you_." Leonard is blunt. "We've had dealings with the creature on the ship—and it's been a dead ringer for both of you. Obviously—" he adds, rubbing at his arm, "—its mama didn't teach it any manners."

"I initially suspected that the Captain was not himself after a conversation with him in the Ready Room," Spock tells them both.

"When he ordered to you to get his friend outta my medical bay?"

"Affirmative. I then attempted to ascertain more data—" Leonard imagines that means Spock tried to connect with the thing's mind (he shudders). "—and the creature acted in defense. I was… relayed to the planet."

So Spock doesn't know, and hasn't guessed, how the creature dragged them here. Damn. He could use a scientific Vulcan analysis right now because all his brain can come up with are impossible—and freaking scary—scenarios.

"There has to be two of them; otherwise, none of this makes sense," McCoy reasons. "We beamed aboard Jim and the creature yet Jim says he never made it to the ship. So who has been playing Captain Kirk all this time?"

"The creature is an unknown, Doctor. We must not discount that it may have the ability to maintain multiple forms at once."

His gut says otherwise. "I think it told me in a roundabout way that it wasn't alone, but I didn't recognize it at the time. Hell, I thought it was you, Spock!"

Jim crosses his arms. "I only met one when I was a kid—and it did say we'd meet again. So where could the other have come from?"

"The real questions are: where did they both come from? What are they?"

"And what do they want?"

Leonard winces and then wishes that he hadn't. Spock fixes a sharp Vulcan eye on him and says, "Doctor, you must explain the details of each encounter."

It is a lot easier to say no to Sulu than Spock. "Is it possible to feed off of destiny?" he asks.

A Vulcan eyebrow indicates Spock's interest in Leonard's question. "Destiny is an intangible concept. I... have difficulty understanding how such a feat might be accomplished."

"The creature says it thinks you and Jimmy have got some tasty destinies."

Jim barks out a laugh which fairly surprises McCoy. "Say that again," Kirk orders.

Leonard rolls his eyes. "You heard me. Best I can guess, this thing has been tracking you for years waiting until your destiny was ripe for the picking."

Kirk seems to consider this possibility and discard it as ridiculous. "That's crazy!"

"We've been in crazier situations, Jim."

"But it—" Kirk pulls irritably at his hair. "—shit, I barely remember. It looked like a... dragon," the young man says, blushing.

"It looks like a lizard to me. Like one of those big ol' things that suns on rocks."

Spock interrupts with "Perhaps you refer to the Terran species of reptile known for its unusually large size; the lizards, discovered in the early 19th century, garnered the name Kodomo Dragon when—"

"Spock, you're full of such useful information," McCoy says dryly. "I never cease to be amazed."

"Sarcasm is unnecessary, Doctor McCoy."

"Okay, that's enough," Jim tells the pair. "Bones, why are you here? Did you piss it, uh, them off?"

Leonard makes the mistake of looking away.

Jim jumps on his response. "Bones," comes the clipped reply, "just _what_ did you do?"

Damn. This conversation is not as easy as he imagined in his head. Hell, he'd rather been hoping that they would already be privy to the situation and would not require an explanation. But Leonard has officially been led off track by the creature (creatures?) and not only are Jim and Spock _not_ prisoners in their own minds, they are clueless as to the _going-on_'s on the ship, being marooned on the surface of the planet.

He pulls at his bottom lip with his teeth. Maybe he should just blurt it out?

Before McCoy can do so, Jim has the doctor's arm in a tight grip. "Bones?" The nickname is full of worry and no little amount of fear. Captain Kirk, afraid—it's almost a ridiculous concept.

"I didn't have a choice, Jim." He sighs, ignoring that the voice in the back of his head saying _yes, you did—and you made your choice_.

"Explain" is the short, quiet order.

He tries to without looking at either person.

"It's pretty much planning to take over the ship. But doesn't every fool thing we encounter want that? Hell, I don't know." Leonard is babbling and cannot stop himself. "Maybe it really can take your destiny by impersonation or something. I'm not an expert on these things. I only know that I don't have all the time in the world to fight it. I'm so sorry. I couldn't see any other way—and, I thought, if I could at least talk to you both, we might..." His words die off.

Jim turns the doctor face-to-face with them. "Bones, please, what are you saying?"

"Jim." It's a plea and a regret all rolled into one. Leonard swallows hard, steeling himself. "Did you know that our destinies are linked?" He looks over at Spock who silently watches both Kirk and McCoy. "Imagine—all three of us part of one big cosmic plan." His short laugh is full of tears. "How damned ironic, to find out you fucking_ finally_ belong, have found the right place, and then—"

At his sudden silence and palpable heartbreak, Spock gently urges, "You must finish, Leonard."

McCoy meets those soulful eyes. (How could he have ever thought that Spock didn't feel? They're right there—the Vulcan's emotions—in his eyes.) He breathes deeply and supplies them with the rest. "Then you learn that whatever is meant to be will end all too soon."

"We'll make it, Bones." Jim speaks with a certainty that Leonard has come to trust.

His smile is sorrowful. "I know _you _will."

Leonard won't, however. The doctor discovers that he doesn't have the heart to say goodbye just then (not as he'd imagined he would). He'll do his darnedest to save Jim and Spock. And even if he loses his battle, Leonard knows that these two strong men will continue to fight on, to fight until they are freed.

He reaches out and lays a hand on Jim Kirk's shoulder. "Thank you," says Leonard H. McCoy. "You give me hope."

The Captain turns to his First Officer. "What do you suggest as a course of action, Mr. Spock?"

Spock steps forward. "I propose an appeal to the enemy, Sir."

"A gesture of defeat?"

"By no means, Captain." The Vulcan gains a look to his eyes that can only be described as resolute. "We must... pursue a confrontation."

Leonard's eye catches a glint to their right. He informs his plotting friends, "I'd say that won't be necessary. It looks like we're about to be paid a visit."

They crowd together, the three, shoulder-to-shoulder. The enemy—_it/they/the unknown_—comes.


	9. Part Nine

**Part Nine**

* * *

The creature looks exactly like it had when Jim first saw it as a young boy. The only difference is that there is no backdrop of an ocean or a salty sea breeze. Jim effectively slides in front of Bones and Spock, attempting to shield them. _No matter what his memory says, it is not his friend_, he reminds himself harshly.

This is his fault.

He'd been a stupid kid, of course, to not fear the unknown. Sure, Jim isn't omnipotent, but he failed to sense that there was an undercurrent of deception to the sea dragon. And because he failed, his entire ship—and perhaps worse if the thing wins—will suffer the consequences.

"Stop where you are!" he calls when it is within range.

It obeys, sitting back on its haunches and tilting its head. A sense of déjà-vu distracts Kirk for a split second.

_Jem-me_. The thought drifts like a leaf on the wind.

He's grimy, sick of seeing sun and long stretches of dry desert, and extremely unhappy that he has no clue what is happening on_ his_ ship. Jim's even less happy that someone wants to take everything away from him _just because it can_.

"Shut up," snaps the blond-haired, hard-eyed man. "I am Captain Kirk of the starship Enterprise."

_Jem-me is angry_, it says to them all.

"Does that surprise you?" Bones asks from over Kirk's shoulder. "You've put us all in a bad position."

_Leonard gets his wish. Leonard sees his friends._

Jim wants to know exactly Bones what wished for and why, but he doesn't have the opportunity to ask. He needs to find a way to send them all back to the ship. Kirk tries a new tactic. "Whatever it is that you want, we can discuss terms on the Enterprise. You have to send us back, or allow us to make contact with the ship."

Silence stretches for a minute or two before Jim is given a reply. _For Jem-me, I would but cannot. Jem-me stays here. He is safe here._

"Why would the Captain be in danger aboard his ship?" Spock wants to know.

_Not just Captain. Tall one, also, and ill one._

Jim's mouth goes dry. Ill? Bones is ill? Maybe it means grumpy. Kirk is cold with the possibilities. He almost breaks a personal rule and turns to ask the doctor. A quick catch of Spock's eye reminds him that he cannot afford to focus on anything but dealing with the enemy. And if Spock's posture is indicative of his mood, the Vulcan too has something to address with the Chief Medical Officer.

Spock rephrases his question, intent on an answer. "What danger is present aboard the Enterprise?"

It leans forward, hands splayed and claws digging into the earth. _There is much danger on ship._

"Oh for the love of God, would you quit talking in circles! We want straight answers, damn you!" Bones is apparently at the end of his rope.

_There is other on ship, hungry one. _

"Why… would you to do this?" Jim needs to understand. He doesn't remember fear of this creature.

_Young are always hungry. They must feed._

"_Fuck"_ is the doctor's quiet response. "What do your people require to survive?"

_You not understand our ways. We travel far, must, to live. _

"It is logical, Captain," Spock interrupts. "All forms of life require sustenance."

McCoy jumps in. "So you're saying we should just accept they're higher on the food chain and are allowed to snack on us?"

"Doctor, I merely state that we should not judge them based on our standards—or despite our lack of knowledge of their race."

"Spock, I'm not a backwards hick, no matter what you think. But as a man, I should have a right to decide if I want to be someone's dinner."

"Did your forefathers give this right to the porcine?"

"Enough about the pigs!" barks Kirk. He puts his foot down, so to speak. "Debate on humanitarian rights later, gentlemen. Understood?"

"Affirmative, Captain" and "We're lucky if we'll have a_ later_, Jim!" are the responses.

Everyone is so busy arguing or trying to prevent arguing that no one realizes the creature has edged forward until it is less than ten feet away. McCoy leaps back with a sharp curse. Spock remains still and Kirk pulls out his phaser (stupid thing is losing its charge after so many days).

Jim levels the weapon at it, despite that he wishes the threat weren't necessary. "I won't let you hurt my friends."

The emotion that washes over him can only be described as sadness. _Time is up now_, it cries softly to all. It rises, then, on its backwards-bent legs and beckons to McCoy. _No more time for Leonard._

Jim is inexplicably frightened at those words. His hand automatically reaches back for Bones and when it finds nothing but air, he half-turns with a cry. "Bones!"

McCoy is nowhere to be seen.

Before Jim can protest, the still Vulcan quakes once with a tremor, as if something sharp bursts and is quickly reined in; then in a sudden, impossibly fast movement (Jim barely sees it happen) Spock launches forward at their enemy. The thing simply watches, its black eyes reflective in the light of day, as it is attacked.

* * *

"God, not again" is Leonard's weak reply when he blinks open his eyes. He is in Sickbay, his office to be precise, slumped against a wall. McCoy doesn't bother to move or get to his feet. Instead, he places a hand firmly against his temple and says, "You're one mean fucker. You know that, right?"

"Did you accomplish all that you needed to, Doctor?"

_Shit and double damn._ Spock, the sadistic not-Spock, sits cross-legged on the top of his desk. A pile of PADDS and notes have been summarily tossed away and now litter the floor.

"Why would I bother to plot when none of what just happened was real?"

That laugh is most certainly not Vulcan.

"It was real. I allowed you to speak with_ them _and now I have returned you to the ship."

McCoy drops his hand, staring. "So they're on the planet?"

"_Affirmative_, I believe, is the appropriate answer."

Leonard plans to tell the real Spock that maybe Vulcan stoicism isn't so bad. Anything else is entirely too creepy to handle from a Vulcan. McCoy may have just gained a new respect for blank-faced species.

"I don't understand. Why did you..." He trails off, thinking. No, it definitely wasn't this one with the evil sense of humor that had spoken to the three officers. Perhaps the other... creature-dragon is not completely cooperative with its partner. McCoy hopes that that is the case, that this monster is not in control of whatever horrible game plan is in progress.

Shit, they have so little chance of saving themselves, don't they? With the Captain and First Officer unable to communicate with the crew—oh God, he needs to tell someone! If they can figure out a way to get down to the surface to retrieve Jim and Spock...

"Do not try," hisses not-Spock.

Leonard manages to smooth out his expression. "Try what? Is there something I should be tryin'?" Maybe cheeky will distract it enough that Leonard can get to his emergency kit of hyposprays. Damn, he should start packing an extra one or two in his boots for crazy situations like this. The doctor makes a show of stumbling to his feet, favoring one leg for dramatic effect.

"Damn xenopolycythemia works fast," he grumbles while laughing bitterly on the inside. "I think I'd better have a good and proper seat."

The Vulcan watches him with apparent suspicion but makes no move to detain him. McCoy settles behind his desk, sliding the chair in close enough that it won't be too obvious he is rummaging through the drawers.

"Please get off," the doctor asks. "Spock always makes me uncomfortable when he meditates on my desk."

It removes itself and Leonard suppresses the urge to roll his eyes. Stupid monster doesn't how to play its roles with accuracy. Spock would have a Vulcan conniption fit if he saw how the creature disregarded Vulcan propriety. Leonard will have to remember to tease the First Officer later. (Good Lord how he hopes there will be a later!)

"So how's this, er, take-over going to happen?" starts McCoy. His hidden hand carefully slides open the lower right drawer. "You plan to beam us all to the planet and masquerade as an entire crew?"

It narrows its eyes at him.

"That'd be a big job for any man, let alone a single lizard-thing like yourself."

"Stupid human," it says.

Leonard raises an eyebrow. "Really? 'Cause I was about to call you a stupid swamp monster. You can't expect over four hundred crewmen to buy your act. You can't be a Captain, a First Officer, and a Chief Medical Officer all at the same time!" He runs a thumb along the side of a box and flips a catch.

When his knee accidentally bumps the underside of the desk, the creature imitating Spock takes a step forward. Leonard hastily says, "Sorry, my knee bounces when I'm cornered."

"Cornered?" it asks.

"Yeah. Trapped. About to be hoodoo-ed by the likes of yourself."

"I not trap Leonard," it says almost sibilantly.

Uh-oh. Speech change is a bad sign. Perhaps it can maintain a charade of its victim for only so long before it loses its grasp on its form.

"No?" he asks quietly. "Then what do you call what you're planning to do? You can't stick a man between a rock and a hard place and expect him to be grateful." Leonard's fingers find what he is looking for, grasps the hypospray firmly. "I don't want to die, and you Goddamn well know that. And even though I can force myself to give up, I can't stand the thought of others suffering _because of me_." He pushes back his chair and rises, careful to conceal the object as he does so. "So don't stand there and tell me you haven't cruelly forced me into this situation!"

It reaches out for him with one of Spock's long arms, hand open and beckoning. "I give cure."

McCoy edges around the desk. "How?" He gives the thing a taste of full-on McCoy sarcasm. "A simple cool touch? Does your spit have magic healing properties? Xenopolycythemia is too complicated to be solved by some of the most brilliant medical minds in the galaxy! We've been trying since the first case went public and you—" He does not step back when it moves into his personal space. "—think that you can waltz in here, claim you can solve it, _and I'd believe you?"_

Leonard inhales deeply when it finally touches him, grasping the doctor's shoulder. He wraps a wrist around its arm and says flatly, looking into those eyes much too dark to be Spock's, "I'm not that fucking _stupid_."

The hypospray comes in low, a sharp, short stab into the monster's side. It jerks McCoy forward in surprise and unfurls claws instead of fingers. Leonard has a short moment of terror, thinking it will rip into him but the monster shudders once, eyes wide, and drops like a stone to the floor of the office.

Leonard leans most of his weight on shaky arms planted on his desk. The hypospray still clutched in his right hand is completely empty. The dosage would be lethal to any other person aboard this ship, so it is possible that he has just euthanized the enemy.

His knees decide that then is a great time to buckle. He is sitting on the floor, slumped against the side of his desk when the shouting and banging starts on the other side of the door. McCoy is confused for a minute, only realizing belatedly that he'd originally command-locked the door to his office. Before he can even begin to go about disengaging the locks, there is a loud _bang _and the door groans under pressure.

Leonard blinks, his mouth dropping open, when a familiar hand—too damn familiar—successfully pries back part of the door like an inconvenient obstacle. It smoothly punches in a series of codes on the wall unit mounted close to the frame; the rest of the office door slides back as best it can (it is terribly bent out of position) to emit one Vulcan.

Spock steps into the room, sees his sprawled doppelganger and says, "Fascinating."

The bubble of hysteria that had been roughly pushed aside such McCoy found himself in this awful situation rises up in his throat. By the time Captain Kirk enters the office with a worried and sharp "Bones? Are you okay?", the hysteria has turned into painful laughter. McCoy makes no attempt to control it or the tears squeezing themselves out of his eyes.

Everything seems better and is yet so much more worse than they can imagine.

McCoy is ousted from his huddled position in his office and gently deposited onto a biobed. He purposefully avoids looking at the other occupied beds. It is inevitable that his attention (dying-down hysteria) is caught by a small group of armed red-shirts off to the side. Leonard sees who they are guarding, or rather guarding everyone else against, and gasps "I need a drink."

The second (original, first?) creature, quiet and unnerving, looks at the doctor from across the room. It is, of course, amused.


	10. Part Ten

**Part Ten**

* * *

Christine Chapel is carefully recording Doctor McCoy's examination results when an odd reading immediately makes her stomach clench with worry. She does the only thing she can: follows protocol, reruns the scans, then performs an additional set of tests to confirm her suspicions and shudders at the undeniable indicators. With a PADD in hand, the woman is on verge of entering McCoy's temporary isolation unit when the sound of laughter—Leonard's and the Captain's—stalls her intentions. She braces herself against the outside of the hard opaque wall which separates the patient from the lab areas of the medical bay. Eavesdropping is not her usual style, but Christine needs a moment of distraction before she barrels in and turns Leonard McCoy's life upside down.

"_Spock? _The same Spock that chastises crewmen when they practice violence on inanimate objects in lieu of socking real people?"

"Yeah. The _same _Spock that nearly choked me to death," clarifies the Captain. The man's voice is all wry humor.

"Well... damn." Christine peeks around the corner just in time to catch Leonard grinning broadly at the stony-faced Vulcan. Accent thick, the doctor crows, "Why, I'm honored, Mr. Spock!"

News has spread like wildfire throughout the ship. The calm and collected First Officer apparently lost his head on the planet and forced the creature to return the Captain and the Vulcan to the ship. Not that anyone was previously aware that the two missing officers had been trapped on the planet. The plan to search the surface was stalled by transporter and shuttle malfunctions—suspicious coincidental occurrences now that the crew has the luxury of hindsight.

From Spock's stance, Chapel assesses his silence to McCoy's teasing as _I refuse to acknowledge that I may have displayed uncharacteristic behavior_.

McCoy isn't the only one clearly wishing that he'd had a ringside seat for that particular adventure.

She breathes deeply, steels herself and interrupts the moment between the three officers. "Doctor, a word?"

Leonard turns a bright-eyed look on her, peruses her expression before the smile drops from his face. The shadows in his eyes are unnerving, because Christine sees not only a spark of understanding but also a deep and sudden sorrow. She acknowledges his professional reply "As you wish, Nurse. Please wait in my office—I won't be but a moment" with a short nod.

Catching the Captain's hushed, concerned "Bones?" Christine refuses to believe the doctor's next words to Kirk. "It's alright, Jim" is a quick band-aid on a gaping wound; what bothers the nurse is that Doctor McCoy seems to know this as well as she does.

She rounds on her boss the moment he steps into the CMO's office. McCoy shudders once and Christine wonders why, then, the man insisted that they talk here. The second (_unbelievable but true,_ Christine thinks) creature has been removed under heavy surveillance to another part of Sickbay. It's not dead, but it may very well be for all the signs of life that it displays. Leonard had argued with Kirk's instant decision to have the creature transported off of the ship. Despite the trauma—and the staff is still working to determine the extent of that trauma—it reeked on the crew, the doctor says that they cannot leave it to die on the planet. In that moment, Christine understood how seriously McCoy takes his Hippocratic Oath. Even an enemy's life is worth saving if possible.

The creature, a double (Christine isn't sure), resides in the brig under equally heavy guard. It has given no indication of attack or distress. Chapel along with the rest of crew are deeply disturbed by its lack of caring. A cloud of unease and distrust continues to preside over the _Enterprise_. Ensigns walk carefully and always with a backwards glance.

Christine breaks from her rapid succession of thoughts to accuse McCoy, "You knew."

"Knew what, darlin'?"

She isn't buying his innocent act. "How long, Doctor?"

"You'll have to be more specific, Chris. How long what? How long have I known that I was dying? How long do I have to live?"

Hearing the diagnosis confirmed by someone experienced and erudite enough to do so, she makes a small noise in the back of her throat—like a gasp aborted. "Oh Len, I—"

_Don't_ his eyes say. She collects herself under a veneer of gentle professionalism. "The Captain must be told."

"Chris..."

"_Doctor_, the Captain of this ship, by regulation, has the right—"

"Yes, I know all of that!" snaps McCoy.

She lowers her voice to add softly, "I can do it, if you want."

It's painful to watch the man deflate. Leonard shakes his head at her offer. "No. I'll do it."

Because she _does_ wonder how long he has kept this information to himself, how long he has suffered in silence while everyone worried for the Captain and First Officer, and because she knows the man much too well, Christine takes a step forward. With a firmness that has earned her a reputation as a no-nonsense nurse, she demands of him, "Now. Tell him now."

McCoy swallows. "Bad timing."

"You have xenopolycythemia, Leonard. You don't_ have_ time to waste."

The man closes his eyes against the blunt slap of her words. She aches for him but does not budge. Walking to the door she asks him to stay where he is. Christine thinks that she may have to place a call to Uhura to find the Captain but to her surprise, Kirk and Spock have not left the medical bay. She can't bring herself to smile. "Captain. Doctor McCoy requires you in his office."

Kirk glances at his First Officer, and Christine leaves the decision up to the Captain. She won't stand in the way of the Vulcan if Captain Kirk decides to ask Spock to attend the meeting. Kirk turns back to her, his blue eyes questioning. He nods once, having reached a decision and says to Spock, "Mr. Spock, you may resume your duties."

"Understood, Captain."

Kirk follows her back to the CMO's office. "M'Benga said after the tricorder scan that Bones—"

"The tricorder won't pick up on everything, Captain, if the symptoms are initially subtle."

Kirk halts, not touching her, but she pauses as well. "Symptoms?" he asks sharply.

"Doctor McCoy will provide you with the details." Christine gestures. _It's not my place, Captain—please understand that._

Just when the Captain of the _Enterprise_ turns a determined face to the office door, it slides open. McCoy doesn't pause in his rush, despite that he almost literally runs into Kirk.

"Bones!"

"Jim, come with me!" McCoy latches onto the freshly laundered shirt of the Captain's and hauls him away.

"Doctor McCoy!" Christine calls hurriedly. _What in the world is he doing?_ One or two of the curses running through her head must have accidentally slipped out her mouth because the Vulcan, seeing their hasty troupe to the exit, raises his eyebrow at Chapel. She doesn't spare a thought for why Mr. Spock is still lingering on this deck when he'd been ordered to return to his duties.

McCoy tosses a flaying glance at the Vulcan. "Well, are you coming or what, you green-blooded hobgoblin?"

Spock easily glides to the front of their group and through the open doors of Sickbay.

Leonard releases the Captain's sleeve and points to the turbolift. "Let's go."

"Where, Bones?"

The intense look on Leonard McCoy's face has Christine suddenly hoping when she should be initiating research on a way to prolong the doctor's life. McCoy is already striding away as he responds. "To the brig. I've got a few things to say to that overgrown lizard."

Chapel follows without hesitation.


	11. Part Eleven

**Part Eleven**

* * *

"Bones!"

Leonard's arm is taken in hand and the man halted mid-angry stride. Rather than snapping as he wants to at the Captain, McCoy settles for glaring. They are close to the brig now. Spock and Christine flank Jim. It's a tad strange to see Nurse Chapel in a position that Leonard usually takes. He isn't sure that he likes being on this end of a confrontation.

So close. Close enough, by a slim hope, that McCoy might get some answers from the only source with a possibility of having them. It doesn't bear thinking about how the rest of Leonard's life will play out if the xenopolycythemia is truly incurable.

Kirk releases his tight grip once Leonard resigns himself to being cornered. "I need to know," the Captain begins, "why you want to see… it. Why, Bones?"

Leonard doesn't really have a choice, does he? The Captain may speak informally but his words are a command nonetheless. Three pairs of eyes are fixed on him; they are waiting. The corridor is empty of other people but Leonard feels unsettled speaking the truth out loud. He does it anyway. "I have xenopolycythemia, Captain." In McCoy's mind, the words echo down the hall. He shoves away the urge to chase after them and hide them again.

Christine closes her eyes. The Vulcan says nothing, but Leonard isn't foolish enough to think that Spock does not know what the disease is—or will do to Leonard McCoy. It's only Jim who pales, not fully understanding but aware enough that the doctor's tone indicates a terrible prognosis.

"_You_, Bones?" is Kirk's whisper.

"Yes, Jim. The disease has no known cure." He throws in the words hastily, grasping for some way to soften the blow. "I'll still be effective as the CMO in the time that I have left."

Jim inhales sharply then. "How long?"

"About two years. I'm… lucky that we caught it so soon."

Christine interrupts. "He is correct, Captain. The early-stage indicators of xenopolycythemia would not have registered on the tests performed during a standard physical exam. Perhaps in a year's time, Doctor McCoy would begin to exhibit major symptoms."

She meets Leonard's eyes and his stomach drops. _Don't, Chris_, he thinks silently, unable to voice the plea.

"M'Benga ordered the micro-analytic testing for Leonard in the aftermath of… the creature's attack. Those readings led to the discovery of the disease." Then she says directly to McCoy, "Tell them all of it, Doctor."

_Shit._ His jaw, as a natural habit, automatically locks in rebellion.

Kirk is having none of Leonard's resistance. "Explain," the man orders softly.

Looking at the First Officer for help is useless. Spock's eyes may be pained but the Vulcan obviously won't allow Leonard to skimp on the details. McCoy curses and turns his back to Kirk, Spock, and Chapel.

"Let's get to the brig."

"_McCoy_…" Kirk gives him fair warning.

"I understand, Jim. But I think my explanation would be better served with all parties present."

There is a short silence. "That thing knows?" asks the nurse, a not-quite horror lacing her voice.

"Oh yes." Leonard's body jerks once before he can punch down the anger building inside him. "C'mon." He moves quickly down the hall, resuming his original fast pace. A sharp turn of a corner and McCoy stops in front of the entrance to the brig. Jim comes to stand beside him, Spock slightly behind them both. Christine lingers uncertainly against the opposite wall.

McCoy tells her, "You don't have to come in with us, Chapel. No one will ask you to."

The woman takes a deep breath and pulls back her shoulders. "I think I'd better not, Doctor."

He nods his understanding. Chapel is, at the very least, aware of what they are doing and will be close by in case of an emergency… or to alert the ship if something goes terribly wrong.

Jim and Spock follow Leonard into the brig. The security on duty instantly snap to attention, only Kirk's "At ease, men" notifying all present that they can relax to a certain extent. The Captain of the Enterprise motions the red-shirts to the side.

One of them protests. "Sir, what if the prisoner—"

"I expect you to keep a watchful eye on us, Lieutenant," says Kirk. He glances at Leonard and then Spock. "However, you must not—under any circumstances—repeat the conversation that you are about to hear beyond this room. Understood?"

Both of the guards simultaneously agree, "Yes, Captain."

"Bones, let me go first."

He has to argue with that. "No, Jim. You going first is what always lands you in bad situations. I'll—"

"Doctor, Captain. If you please." Spock makes no apology for shouldering to the front of both of the men. The Vulcan is the first to enter the open area of the brig, cells set in a long row. Leonard glares at the back of Spock's head as he follows.

The creature is crouched on a cot in its own small room. The force-field of energy bars are intact, crackling and bright. The three officers are greeted by a low warbling from the inside of the occupied cell.

Leonard takes this as a hello. Before he can respond as he desires, McCoy is interrupted by the First Officer.

"Greetings." Trust Spock to be polite to the enemy. "At this time, we desire conversation. Do not attempt to endanger, coerce, or otherwise distress any participant. There will be subsequent punitive action for such behavior." The Vulcan pauses. "You will also receive a lack of leniency at your trial hearing."

McCoy's mouth drops open. "Trial? Since when is there going to be a trial?"

Spock addresses the doctor's surprise without facing Leonard. "Given the intent to conquer unwilling subjects such as the Captain and yourself, Doctor, Federation law quite clearly states that the prisoner must undergo a trial. The Enterprise, at the Captain's command, is ready to proceed to the nearest starbase to initiate the proceedings."

"Goddamn it, Spock, who can judge if they were acting out of maliciousness or—"

"Doctor," the Vulcan looks at McCoy then. Spock's gaze is hard. "You must not delay the truth of your encounters with these creatures. Explain your initial discovery of your illness."

Leonard is certain that his face pales; he can feel the blood draining from his head. When Jim lays a hand on McCoy's shoulder, Leonard knows that he can no longer fight this battle alone. "It told me," he answers in a shaky breath. "Several times, actually, until it—the other one, I mean—said outright that I had xenopolycythemia."

Spock's dark eyes soften with something akin to sympathy. "As I suspected. In doing so, the creature has an advantage to manipulate you during a distraught state of mind."

"Bones," Jim's voice seems strained with emotion.

He is simply unable to look at Jim or Spock as he tells them the rest of the horrible truth. "It was playing me as a trump card, alright. It said… that being diseased made me less desirable of a victim." His smile grows bitter. "So I was offered a cure."

It's then that McCoy meets the gazes of Kirk and Spock. "Can you imagine? A cure for xenopolycythemia—the medical breakthrough of the century! Do you know how many people can be saved if we had the cure? And that doesn't take into account the other possible avenues for treatment of similar diseases it would open up for us…"

"Bones, stop it." Jim takes his shoulders and gives him a little shake. When Leonard sighs, slumping just enough that the other man can tell McCoy is listening, Kirk releases him. "Nothing is free, and I don't want to contemplate what that thing wanted in return for a cure. Bones," Jim tells him gently, "it's not your responsibility to make that call."

"I'm a doctor, Jim. It's my job to save lives, no matter what it costs me."

"When the cost is your life, Leonard, you deprive potential patients of an expert care that they would receive nowhere else."

"Spock, I'd be more than happy to debate this with you but I doubt either of us are going to budge. And we just don't have enough time left to waste like that."

At the reminder of Leonard's numbered days, Kirk stiffens and rounds on the creature. It has stayed silent and observant since they confronted it.

"I'll only ask you this once." Captain Kirk's voice has a cold quality that McCoy rarely hears. "Do you or your partner have a viable cure for xenopolycythemia?"

It slowly climbs from its cot, crawls towards them and straightens to full height. It blinks black, fathomless eyes and tilts its head.

_No._

A sharp pain splinters through Leonard; it is his last hope crumbling to dust. "That's it then." Is that his voice which sounds so hollow?

"_No_," Jim says fiercely. "I won't believe it!"

"Jim," he tries to talk sense to the livid man, though speaking seems incredibly difficult. "I don't think that there's much we can do. You can't get something when there's nothing to give." At Kirk's expression, Leonard thinks that the man might surely try. "Spock, please—"

"I must agree with the Captain. I find that… there is no acceptable alternative."

Leonard looks between them, unsure and slightly awed by their combined will. He is about to tell them not to be crazy, that it doesn't matter, he's still got two years left and…

_There is another way._

The three turn as one to the still-standing creature.

"How?" Kirk demands.

_Free me_, it tells them in gentle psychic waves. _Must see other. Then I will tell all._

"No!" McCoy fairly shouts, heart pounding. He grabs Kirk's arm. "Jim, for God's sake, don't jeopardize the ship!"

Something pained flickers through Kirk's eyes. "I can't give up… not for you, Bones."

Leonard's breath catches. _Oh God, Jimmy, don't be a fool_ he doesn't say.

Kirk looks to his First Officer. "Spock?"

McCoy sincerely hopes that the Vulcan will use every ounce of that logical brain to persuade Jim against conceding to their enemy's wishes.

His stomach plummets when Spock responds too calmly, "I will advise Nurse Chapel to prepare the medical bay and alert the relevant officers on duty." The Vulcan leaves to do just that.

Leonard's skin crawls with the pleased amusement which seeps from the creature at his back. _If it turns on them..._ The result will be the end of them all.


	12. Part Twelve

**Part Twelve**

* * *

"This is a bad idea," McCoy announces as they march back to Sickbay. "This is the stupidest idea you and Spock have agreed to yet."

"Bones," Jim is grim. "quit complaining."

McCoy shuts his mouth and produces a deep frown. Spock is already ahead of the group, probably has assembled a team of security in addition to the red-shirted men surrounding the creature that trails them through the corridors. Jim has one hand on a phaser tucked in his belt; perhaps touching it makes the Captain feel more secure. McCoy is weaponless at his own insistence.

He manages to keep silent until they are close to their destination. "If we all end up on that planet watching the Enterprise sail away, then it's your fault."

Spock, who waits for them outside the entrance to Sickbay with patience and a sharp gaze, responds to McCoy's griping once the man is within (Human) earshot. "Doctor, the distance between the current location of this ship and the surface of the planet is too great for the eye to perceive its departure from the solar system."

"It's an expression, Spock."

"Indeed." His tone indicates that it is an expression which might be better served with more logic and less fancy.

McCoy purposefully steps around the Vulcan to enter the medical bay. He pauses a few feet inside, turns around to the sight of security officers taking positions around the entrance with grim faces and leveled phasers. Then Leonard catches Jim's eyes. Kirk nods once, perhaps to say_ yes, this is really happening. _With a heart-felt sigh, McCoy resigns himself to this inevitable dangerous game of chance.

He barks at the few people left to staff Sickbay—Chapel included—about impending medical crises and sends them scurrying to prep equipment. Chapel approaches Leonard, much like a second-in-command, to ask, "Where do you need me, Sir?"

Leonard answers simply, "In close attendance, Nurse." He pauses, second-guesses sending her into a room with predators.

The woman doesn't give him time to take back those words. Christine Chapel holds up a hypospray in one hand. "Don't worry, Doctor, I'm armed."

He nods and prays that it will be sufficient protection.

"Then let's get this over with."

They lead the crowd of officers—and the enemy—exactly where Leonard McCoy knows that they shouldn't go.

* * *

Jim is running on iron will and discipline. He has always had both in ample quantities but, in the past, received little incentive to use the latter—until he decided to join Starfleet, that is. As Captain of the flagship, Kirk finds that discipline is more than a necessity; it is a way of life. Sometimes he surprises himself with how easy it is to push all the little matters aside and focus on what needs doing.

Such as now.

Bones is in serious trouble. The doctor is _dying, _the disease is incurable, and Jim is not only reeling from the revelation but desperately grasping at straws to save the doctor's life.

His steely front hides a terrified raging on the inside. Kirk isn't ready to give up, will never be ready to give up, when his friend's life hangs in the balance. If there is a way to help Bones, then he is ready to restructure the known universe in order to do so. And if it means that he has to step into this danger zone, then he will gladly go. Leonard McCoy may not understand what drives Kirk but that does not deter Jim. He fights for friends and family. He fights on behalf the galaxy. He cannot, simply put, stop fighting.

Motioning for the guards to detain the prisoner, Kirk steps into the isolated area which contains the other unknown. The enemy here is the threat that has, thus far, stranded him and his First Officer on the planet below and attempted to steal his ship (and possibly his destiny as well—he doesn't quite understand that bit, or believe it). It no longer looks like Spock. Somehow its façade has faded into sharply ridged skin and long awkward limbs. While the old sea dragon that Jim met as a child appears almost fanciful, this one is something entirely different. From the lack of long seaweed-like whiskers to the bright, fresh look of its scales, Jim knows instinctively that this being is young by its species' standards. The other did not lie, then, about the age of its partner.

The stillness in the room creates a feeling of listlessness and unease. The patient's eyes are closed and if it breathes, then no one can see it do so.

He gives a sharp word of command to the officers, who then reluctantly part their tight circle around the prisoner. It comes slowly as if it knows that any sudden movement will be treated as hostile action.

Jim sees Bones' body draw inward with apprehension. He is grateful when Spock moves to a spot slightly to the left of McCoy's shoulder. It is a subtle signal of the Vulcan's intent to provide a comforting presence for the doctor. Bones glances at Spock and some of the tension eases from those tight shoulders. Jim looses a breath of his own.

They all watch as the creature crawls to the bed and straightens, leaning over its counterpart. The soft trill it makes sends a skittering along Kirk's nerves. After a short pause, it trills again. The second attempt is abruptly silenced and the creature tilts its head, blinking slowly as if it listens to a response that none of them can hear.

Then it fixes those black bottomless eyes on McCoy.

_The hatchling hurts._

Several pairs of eyes go wide, the security team clearly not expecting to hear a voice in their heads. Bones' eyebrows come down in a mock scowl. Jim interrupts before Bones can antagonize the creature.

"We've held up our end of the deal. Tell us what we want to know."

When a long-fingered hand reaches for the unconscious hatchling, Jim snaps out, "No physical contact or you leave."

It cranes its neck around to peer at him. _There is much pain. I help._

"Jim…"

"_No_."

Leonard addresses that which watches them all so closely, its mouth twitching. "We don't know anything about your people. Otherwise, I'd have treated him by now."

_You have goodness._

"I took an oath," replies the doctor.

"Doctor, it would be wise to keep them separated."

"They're already in the same room, Spock." Bones makes no attempt to hide the dryness of his rejoinder.

"A mental connection is strongest when physically linked," explains the Vulcan.

Jim raises both eyebrows since he is incapable of raising only one like Doctor McCoy. "Spock?"

"During our… confinement on the planet, Captain, you related to me that you could only communicate with the being through touch. This is, of course, very similar to touch telepathy if not a more unusual form. I suspect that it spoke to you in this manner because of your young age."

Bones looks interested. "You mean it didn't want to scare the kid shitless and have him doubt the voices in his head. Makes sense." He points at the sea dragon. "What were you doing, playing hide-and-seek with an un-chaperoned boy?"

Thank God the creature doesn't understand Bones' turn of phrase. Nevertheless, it tells them, _Jem-me bright like sun_.

Bones doesn't think much of this answer by his expression. "Jim-boy, I'd say this ship has put up with a lot from your fans but we definitely draw the line at destiny-stealing stalkers."

_Good destiny_, it agrees. _Jem-me's destiny is good._

"Enough," Jim interrupts. They don't have time to work through riddles. "How do we find the cure for xenopolycythemia?"

_I help hatchling, I help Jem-me._

"You'll help us regardless."

_No. Must help hatchling._

Surprisingly, it's Bones who folds his arms and says, "Just let him do it, Captain." McCoy meets his eyes then. "You've already put us at risk by letting it get this far."

He shoves down the hurt at the sting of those words.

"Captain," the First Officer speaks quietly, "though I must censure Doctor McCoy for his disrespect, I am also in agreement." Spock is blunt. "If you wish to pursue your intended course, the rate of success degrades severely without our cooperation."

Yes, Jim understands well that they are at the mercy of these creatures. That doesn't mean that he has to like it or shouldn't be able to draw a line and hold firm.

He hopes that this old friend whom he can no longer consider any such thing feels his displeasure and distrust. By the way it draws back when he levels his phaser in the vicinity of its chest, it must, no doubt, understand that to cross Captain Kirk would be a serious misstep.

He's done with making allowances. "I will give you one option." Jim lets his voice turn arctic. "You will tell me what I want to know, and I won't shoot you. As an added bonus, I'll allow you to fix your friend afterward. If you refuse to comply, in this order, I will change the setting on my phaser to kill and rid this ship of you entirely. Do we have an understanding?"

_Yes._

It looks left, then right. Jim shifts his weight in case it decides to forgo whatever plan that it had originally made and jump an officer or two instead.

_The cure_, it says with a pause. _There is way. I know not._

Jim snarls without meaning to.

It hurriedly explains that_ Tall one_— It points to Spock, whose eyebrow lifts. –_knows the cure._

"Damn it!" McCoy half-turns to Chapel standing behind the doctor and Spock. "Give me that, Christine." No one in the room is about to gainsay a riled doctor with a deadly hypospray. "Now listen here, you piece of grade A bullhocky! I've had just about enough of your nonsense."

The sea dragon warbles lowly. It backs up when McCoy takes a menacing step forward.

_Tall one! Tall one knows!_

Bones' expression is frightening.

"Doctor." Spock places a hand on Bones' shoulder. "One moment." Spock comes to stand level with McCoy. His words are for the black-eyed sea dragon. "You are aware that I do not have knowledge of that which we seek, correct?"

_Yes._

"And yet you claim otherwise."

_Tall one_, it repeats fervently. _Yes, tall one knows._

Spock, then, looks straight at Jim and he reels at the intensity in the Vulcan's eyes. Spock speaks clearly, "Captain, I suggest that the assumption is correct. _I_—" the Vulcan stresses, "—must know."

The way Spock says that last sentence strikes Jim hard. He ignores Bones' cry of "That's God-damn insane!"

_Of course._

Of course! Spock—not this Spock but the elder, transversing-universes Spock—must know that Bones would develop xenopolycythemia.

Looking at the doctor's confused face, that not-so-carefully-hidden resignation, Jim realizes his mistake. He never told Bones about the other Spock.

_I show way_, states the creature. _Now I touch hatchling._ It doesn't wait for their response. With intent, the creature lays a hand upon the comatose patient. For a minute, everyone in the room holds their breath. The sea dragon closes its eyes and jerks once with a full-body shudder. It begins to make a deep, vibrating sound like the low hum before an earthquake.

Jim slowly and carefully edges around to the other side of the biobed, to McCoy and Spock, never allowing his gaze to stray from the two threats to his ship and crew. He feels Bones' hand grab the back of his arm and squeeze tightly.

"Jim," whispers the man. "Am I the only one feeling a little weird right now?"

"Weird how?" he asks quietly.

"I can't quite—Shit!"

The doctor starts cursing the moment that the hatchling twitches its lower limbs, then curls them inward to its chest. The biobed console protests loudly at the patient's activity. When Bones tries to slide around Jim towards the console, Spock blocks the doctor's path.

"Outta my way, Spock. I've got to take a look at those readings."

"McCoy!" Jim makes sure that Bones can't misread his tone. "Stand down."

"Jim, you can't—"

"_I. Said.__ S__tand. D__own_."

"Captain." The acknowledgment is brusque.

The creature is almost bodily situated on the biobed now. The hatchling starts thrashing with abandon. One or two of the men look around uncertainly as medical sensors go wild. When the phenomena become more pronounced, the wall lights of the room flickering with energy surges, McCoy yells furiously, "For Christ's sake, let me do _something!_"

Jim does what he thinks is best. He orders the two nearest guards to hold onto McCoy's arms. Bones' look of betrayal is a sharp stab to Jim's gut, but he won't risk any one becoming entangled or ensnared by either creature. If forgiveness for this day's work is long in coming, so be it.

All commotion ceases in an instant.

The sea dragon lets go of its tight grip on its counterpart, tucking arms close to its body and wobbles in an awkward crouch on the biobed. There is a whisper, a faint brush against Jim's mind.

_It is released, Jem-me._

What does that mean?

Perhaps the creature hears his silent question; perhaps it simply guesses that he cannot understand the meaning of its words.

It says, _It feels no pain_. Jim doesn't know what to make of the sense of sorrow that accompanies the thought.

"It's dead," Bones clarifies in a strangled voice. "He killed it out of mercy. I—I pumped it full of toxin—"

McCoy never finishes his statement because the sea dragon keens horribly._  
_

Jim's stomach twists at the sound; he has the sudden sick sensation of an unpleasant memory: the smell of a rotting grain field and the low choked sobs of a mother's grief over the grave of a child.

Then McCoy startles them all by breaking free with a sharp elbow stab and shove into his captors. Jim's hand misses the doctor's passing arm by a mere inch.

"_Bones!"_

Leonard McCoy is already across the room, reaching past the creature to the dead patient.

"Bones!"

The second shout is not just warning but terror.

The sea dragon latches onto the CMO of the Enterprise with a hiss. When both start to shimmer, Jim drops his phaser, unwilling to fire and mistakenly hit Bones, and launches himself at the pair. He collides with Spock who has the same intentions and stumbles forward, shins meeting the biobed. Spock's long arm has reached out ahead of them but does not meet the solid flesh of the doctor.

McCoy and the creature have disappeared.


	13. Part Thirteen

**Part Thirteen

* * *

**

"I am really starting to hate this planet," mutters the Captain.

The First Officer makes no comment, merely continues scanning the surrounding area for life-forms. Kirk gestures for his team of officers to fan out in formation, Captain Kirk in the lead. Spock walks steadily north and they follow.

"Captain," calls the Vulcan as his stride pauses. "I am picking up faint waves of activity approximately nine hundred meters from our position."

"What sort of activity?"

"I cannot clarify these readings without more equipment. However, were we to compare the energy fluctuations on the surface with those we experienced prior to the Doctor's capture, there is a high probability that they will match. I made detailed notes of the Enterprise's power surges while you assembled and briefed the security team." Spock looks up from his tricorder. "It seemed unlikely that the entity would transport McCoy and itself without creating a physical trace of the phenomenon."

"Good work, Mr. Spock."

Spock says nothing on that account. Despite Jim's words, they both won't consider their mission successful until McCoy is returned to the ship and the Enterprise is across the galaxy.

For the umpteenth time, Jim wonders what is happening with McCoy, feels sincere dread at the possibilities. He purposefully switches his phaser to a high setting and keeps going.

_Bones_, thinks Kirk. _Hold on. We're coming._

* * *

Leonard digs a stick into the dirt with vicious stabs. "Fuck you," he says clearly. "Fuck you, fuck this planet, and fuck the idea that your creepy ass could have an ounce of decency!"

The sea dragon seems not to care how seriously angry McCoy is right at this moment. It sits on top of an outcropping of rocks, silent and looming like a predator.

Well Leonard is damn tired of being prey.

He tosses the stick away, which does nothing to relieve his temper, and stands, slapping at his dirt-covered pants and cursing. "Congratulations. You've successfully screwed yourself over. At this rate, you'll be mining dilithum for eternity." With a sharp bark of laughter, he adds, "And that's if Jim doesn't turn you into lizard stew first."

_You killed hatchling._

He swallows the guilt lingering in his throat. "I defended myself."

_To hurt one hurts all._

The words penetrate his mind like sharp spikes. Leonard flinches. He tries to calm himself by walking away. Unfortunately, as he has already tried this tactic, he can only go so far out before he hits an invisible barrier. The first time he had been running and almost broken his nose upon impact.

The man is trapped, walking in circles.

"Damn it!" Finally, tired and still angry, he goes back to the rocks and looks up at the creature. "Why did you let your hatchling hurt us in the first place?"

_It not hurt._

"There are men in my medical bay to attest otherwise. They are alive, granted, but not _living_. It did that to them." He sucks in a breath. "Or was that you?"

_No._

"Then how can you possibly hold the Enterprise crew accountable for trying to protect each other? _You _came onboard and terrorized us;_ you_ impersonated the Captain and the First Officer."

Silence meets his accusations.

"I thought so. You're selfish like all the other fiends we've tangled with. You don't care what you do to others. You'll kill us to get what you want." He crosses his arms to hide the shaking of his hands. "So the question is: what are you going to do now?"

Leonard braces himself for the answer, knowing full well that it intends to harm him. Why else bring the doctor to the surface?

Of course, it hasn't killed him yet.

_I wait._

There's a hysterical bubble in the back of his throat.

"Excuse me?"

_Wait_, it says. _They are coming._

He turns his head in the direction which the sea dragon is gazing. At the sudden bright blur in the distance, Leonard's heart begins to pound hard.

Oh fucking Hell. Despite the inexplicable dryness of his mouth, McCoy asks again, "What are you going to do?"

It doesn't answer.

He hesitates only a moment before launching himself onto the first rock. If it won't willingly answer him, Leonard will shake the words from the bastard. Or maybe try to distract it. Leonard has never been surer in his life that when the group headed their way arrives, this terrible, remorseless thing will enact its revenge.

* * *

"Spock!" Jim does a short jog to come level with the Vulcan. "What's that?"

The First Officer shades his eyes against the glare of the sun. "It appears that we have found the source of the energy readings, Captain."

Kirk takes one step forward. "Is that—"

"Doctor McCoy? Yes."

"How did he get up there?"

Spock wonders instead why the rock formation is isolated on the long stretch of flat land. A sense of disquiet grows as he, the Captain, and the security officers approach with caution. They are close enough now that it is apparent the doctor is hailing them. The Vulcan stops, then, and cocks an ear to listen.

Kirk turns to him with an unspoken question in his eyes.

"Captain, it is… illogical that I cannot perceive the doctor's shouts."

Jim glances ahead of them, weighing the distance between them and the outcrop of rock and McCoy. "Yes, Mr. Spock, that is strange. Men, phasers at the ready."

* * *

"Damn it all to hell! Jim, Spock, you fools! GO BACK!"

The moment he had climbed within an arm's length of the creature, it had shimmered and disappeared like a mirage. Leonard kept going until he reached the top. With precarious balance, he set about warning his friends with all his might.

They can't hear him.

Of course, they can't. The stupid monster has probably made the invisible barrier soundproof. Leonard is in a bubble all by himself, waiting for the Enterprise crewmen to step right inside. Then everybody will die, no doubt.

"SPOCK, I SWEAR TO GOD IF YOU CAN'T HEAR THIS, YOU'RE NOT ALLOWED TO GLOAT ABOUT YOUR SUPER POINTY EARS _EVER_ AGAIN!"

It would be more satisfying a shout if the Vulcan would respond.

McCoy's foot shifts on some loose pebbles and he takes a moment to steady himself. The last thing anyone needs is for Leonard to pitch off the top of the world and break his neck. He goes from swearing to cajoling in a matter of heartbeats.

"Look, you win, okay? I killed your friend, baby, or whatever it was, and you've got me. It's my price to pay. Just… let them go. Or send them back to the ship." He rubs a hand against his face. "I give up. Isn't that what you want?"

When Jim, Spock, and the team of red-shirts must be past the barrier, Leonard's stomach drops.

How can they…?

Oh shit. Was the barrier just to keep Leonard from escaping?

"Jim! Spock!"

"Bones!"

The relief that rushes through him almost makes him dizzy.

"Stay there! STAY THERE!"

He scrambles to his knees and starts searching for handholds to climb back down. If he can get to Jim and Spock, then they might have a better chance. The creature won't be able to use him against them. It…

The sudden shadow falling across his head, shoulders, and hands causing the man to glance up, a sharp streak of fear running up his spine. The sea dragon is back on its perch, a few scant feet from where he has hoisted himself over a protruding rock.

For the first time that Leonard can remember, its mouth opens in a grin. It has only two front fangs, long and pointed. Leonard stares, unable to look away, as it hisses low and long. When those scaled arms snake out, claws extended, he has to automatically fight the desire to pull away, lest he drop off the edge and crack his head open down below. It digs those claws into the backs of his hands and he can't bite back a noise of pain.

In the distance there is an exclamation, perhaps a cry of "Bones!" and a series of frantic orders, but all seems muted to the sound of Leonard's own heartbeat in his ears.

"What are you going to do?" he asks one last time. It's a whisper, hushed and knowing.

_Kill you_, it states clearly.

With those words, it drags him back up the rock face several inches with a surprising strength. When it bends over, they are practically face-to-face. It murmurs, so softly, in his mind, _Hatchling wanted all three destinies. I need only Jem-me's._

Then it tosses Leonard off of the rock. He falls screaming.

**

* * *

**

Um. One part left.


	14. Part Fourteen

**Part Fourteen**

* * *

Jim wakes up from his doze to the echoing memory of Bones' scream, reliving that moment again with his heart in his throat. Running fingers through his short hair, not willing to lift his head from the edge of the bed, Jim strives to put reality on hold. At a light, hesitant touch against his back, between his shoulder blades, he gives in and looks up.

"Captain, please use the other bed. You know how Doctor McCoy—"

Here Nurse Chapel breaks off and glances away. After a deep breath, she turns back to Jim. Her words are resolute, if a bit forced. "Doctor McCoy would list ten different conditions that result from bad posture because of falling asleep in a chair."

Kirk's chuckle is quiet and pained. "Then he'd bully me until I was exactly where he thought I should be."

Christine's smile is small but genuine. "Oh yes. So… which will it be, then? The easy way, or do I need to put my McCoy-training to use?"

He decides that the woman is serious. As he stands, back protesting from the movement, Jim looks over at the other biobed. "Is it possible to…"

"We'll move it closer, Captain." With a comforting pat, she walks away.

Kirk limps across the short distance and sits down. He doesn't need a mirror to know how awful he must appear—cuts from shards of sharp rock; rumpled, dust-caked uniform and skin; and prominently, the bruised look in his eyes. He hasn't changed clothes since beaming down to the planet, hasn't spared a thought for anything other than ignoring his own pain and praying.

Eyes closed against the bright sterile room and hearing dulled to the soft beeps of an assorted array of medical equipment, Jim drops his head to his chest.

They couldn't save Bones.

* * *

_The Captain dropped to his knees beside his First Officer, staring for what seemed to be a suspended amount of time at McCoy, the doctor's body having been treated no better than a carelessly discarded rag doll thrown among the rocks. The Vulcan pulled back Jim's white reaching hand, long fingers wrapped tightly around the man's wrist. Kirk, at the time, spared no thought for how his own emotions must be battering at the touch-telepath in vicious waves._

"_Do not touch him, Captain."_

"_Bones?"_

_Spock's voice was gentle. "The doctor is not dead, but the severity of his injuries requires immediate attention." In other words, Spock feared that McCoy would not survive for long._

_Kirk fumbled for his communicator, flipping it open with an unsteady hand. "Kirk to Enterprise. We need beam out. Medical emergency."_

_The communicator crackled with a Scottish brogue and static. "—Capt'n—_repeat—_cannae—blockin' the signal—_Capt'n!"

* * *

He couldn't save Bones and he almost couldn't save Spock.

* * *

_Kirk stared at the communicator before coming to his feet in a flash. His team of security was already divided between forming a wall around the Captain and hunting out the enemy. Jim took two steps back, breaking from the circle of men, and shouted, "Why! Damn you, why him!"_

Jem-me.

_There was a rage, not unlike bile, creeping up his throat. Then a tingling along the back of his neck made Jim spin around. The creature lingered some distance away, kneeling on all fours in the dirt and watching their group. Kirk took off after it with the only thought that he had to force it to let them beam Bones to the ship._

Bones is going to die.

_The thought—the certainty of that thought—drove him onward._

_At first, Jim mistook the shuddering that caused his stumbling as his own rage reaching a boiling point, but then Spock exclaimed "Jim!" amidst loud cries of "Captain!" He heard the rocks breaking apart behind him and turned in time to see chunks dropping down on his team. Spock tried to bodily cover the unconscious doctor from the cascading earth. _

"_No! STOP!"_

* * *

Kirk fists the sheets in his hands, dredging up the will not to display the emotions which run rampant within him.

He'd been prepared for a trap. He'd been prepared to fight, to kill—if he's honest with himself—in order to free his ship and his friends from the sea dragon. Instead, the trap had proved more swift and deadly that he had anticipated.

* * *

"_Spock!"_

_There are two other officers, one bleeding from a head wound, who help him move rocks and dig for the Vulcan._

"_Spock!" _

_Jim refused to give up, shredding his hands on razor edges and grimly blinking the dirt out of his eyes. When his fingers touched familiar clothing, he could have cried._

_Perhaps he did._

_They excavated the Vulcan's lower half only to find that there weren't enough of people left alive to remove the heavy boulder pinning Spock onto McCoy._

_By this time, Jim would have willing opened his own veins if it meant the ship could transport them out of Hell. Then, from the corner of his eye, he saw the devil hovering nearby and made a deal with him instead._

* * *

"Captain?"

Kirk lets out a breath, locks eyes with Christine and tries to smile. His mouth won't cooperate.

Her look is full of compassion. "Mr. Spock is comfortable, Sir. Dr. M'Benga estimates that he will come out the healing trance in another two days."

He nods his understanding. "Bones?" Quiet but meaningful.

"No change. I'm sorry."

What happens if McCoy never recovers?

Jim knows that he won't be around to find out. Allowing two maintenance crewmen to carefully ease past him, he watches passively as they unhook and move the biobed at the nurse's instruction. Once everyone has left him alone again, he eases down on to the bed.

There will be no sleep.

It's his last night on the Enterprise. The sea dragon's words come back to him in the silence of the medical bay.

* * *

I will release all but you.

_Knowing that his men wouldn't leave if he did not, Jim said as much._

Then you must return.

"_If I don't?"_

Jem-me will.

_So it had let them go. _

_Scotty was swearing up a storm once Jim and the last standing men had beamed aboard. The Captain wasted no time in catching up with the trauma units rushing Spock, McCoy, and three security officers to Sickbay._

* * *

He leaves before Spock wakes up. Nurse Chapel is startled when Captain Kirk hands her a sealed message for the Vulcan.

"Sir?"

"Please give this to Mr. Spock you feel that he is well enough."

"But Captain, I don't—"

"Don't worry." He flashes her a wane version of his normally charming smile. "It's just something I want him to see."

He then spends a few hours in his quarters encrypting a message to be sent to New Vulcan. If Bones lives, Jim has set the wheels in motion to find the cure for xenopolycythemia. In his brief (somewhat sorrowful) message to the older Spock, Jim asks for help on Bones' behalf; in his handwritten letter to his Spock, Jim simply says _Help Bones_.

Jim refuses to think of a future where Bones dies.

His last destination, one that does not arouse suspicion, is to Doctor McCoy's isolation unit. Jim ignores the medical console which indicates that Leonard may not be able to hear him. Warming his hands first against his regulation trousers, the Captain takes the doctor's slack hand between his own.

He leans over to say quietly, "Bones?" Jim swallows hard against the swelling of his throat. "If you can hear me, Bones, I just want you to know that… I am sorry." He chokes for a minute. "You've made it great, you and Spock; I always thought that we would have more time—shit—I thought that we'd at least make it through another five years in space. … Guess not. Nevermind." He squeezes the cold hand. "Keep an eye on Spock. He'll need you."

_Jem-me._

Kirk straightens and carefully replaces McCoy's hand on the bed. The creature is waiting when he turns around.

"Okay."

The sea dragon, a monster with the face of an old friend, extends one hand to the Captain of the Enterprise. Jim, in a mimic of a childish curiosity from years ago, reaches out. When their fingertips touch, a sensation akin to an exploding sun bursts and consumes everything.

In truth, standing at Doctor Leonard McCoy's bedside, Jim—_Jem-me_—vanishes into thin air.

* * *

It changes as it must, thrives in the shift of joints, elongation of bones, and growth of features like a nose to smell with, ears to hear, and hair (it is unsure of the purpose of hair except for aesthetic pleasure). Scales and ridges recede, hard becoming soft and vulnerable. Human.

The last piece falls into the place, the color of the eyes (black shrinking to pupil-size, an iris forming in a bright shade of blue). It stands at full height, James Tiberius Kirk—and Other.

Despite the strange feeling of stretching new muscles, it smiles. As an adult, it is more experienced than a hatchling and understands that patience leads to the prize. Jem-me's destiny will be good, so full of potential. Tasty, more than a snack but a delicious meal to enjoy until the last morsel is gone.

Yes, worth the long waiting and watching; worth all the mess caused by a troublesome young one and Jem-me's suspicious friends.

It savors the moment that the change is complete, then sets to planning.

* * *

"Oh! Excuse me, Captain. I'm sorry to disturb you." Chapel is not surprised when she finds Jim Kirk watching over McCoy. She, however, suddenly feels unsettled when Kirk turns to her with a smile.

Her own soft smile wavers and is lost under the bright-eyed beaming of Captain Kirk.

"Hello." A clearing of the throat. "Nurse Chapel." The _Hello _comes out grated, but her title sounds normal enough.

Christine holds up a PADD and kit of medical supplies. "This won't take long. I need to check Doctor McCoy's vitals."

The Captain nods once and walks to the door. He turns back at the last moment to ask, "Nurse, my men attacked by the _sea dragon_..." Sea dragon? "How are they?"

"Status unchanged, Sir." Dr. M'Benga admits that Medical cannot keep the unusual condition of the men (those poor, blank-eyed men) from Starfleet much longer; families need to be notified, arrangements made for their care.

"Mm. I must be notified immediately once they recover. I want to take the Enterprise out of orbit and into space. We have other places to be."

For a minute, she is at a loss for words. "But Captain..."

"Given time, even the gravest of illnesses may heal." The Captain keeps smiling, no longer pale, drawn or troubled in appearance. He emphasizes, "When they awaken and not a second beyond!" His confidence of their imminent improvement astounds her.

Placing her doubts to the side, the nurse proceeds with her work.

In a way that is neither explainable by nor comforting to all future visitors of McCoy's room, it is noted that the lingering aftertaste in the air is simple, pure and frightening amusement.

_-Fini_

* * *

**Sequel?**_  
_


	15. Concluding AN

**Never thought I'd be breaking the rules blatantly like this... but here is a concluding author's note. It is what little solace I can offer.**

I'm going to be completely honest. I didn't see this particular end of _The Boy and the Sea Dragon_ coming until it smacked me in the face. The hardest part as an author - and lover of happy endings - is writing something that is painful but you cannot work around. Maybe I could have had Spock go into super Vulcan warp-speed and break Bones' fall... but no, I couldn't swallow that scenario. Then the nasty sea dragon smiled at me and said, "I win." Harsh but true.

The good news is that I do see a potential sequel... but it's going to take a lot more than Spock and Bones to save Jim. (I am not even sure at this point if Bones survives.) There is a glimpse of Spock!Prime appearing on the scene. But where's Jim? I do not know.

I absolutely adore my faithful readers. Seriously. I wouldn't keep coming back with fics if I knew that no one cared. So in breaking your hearts with an unpleasant ending, I break my own.

Let's keep our fingers crossed that a sequel does enlighten my brain. Until then, you all are more than welcome to imagine your own. Preferably with the bad guy paying dearly for his crimes and facing down an enraged trio...

Much love,

KLMeri

* * *

**PS: As of 12/27/10, there is now officially a sequel - The Man and the Memory.**


End file.
